iWant My Mommy!
by iSnarkaholic
Summary: Carly needs a hug...  Carly/Sam CAM!
1. Chapter 1

iWant My Mommy!

Synopsis: Carly needs a hug...

Pairing: Carly/Sam

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly (yet), but my birthday_ is_ in April (shop early...avoid the rush)!

Rated: "M"

Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama, Humor, Hurt, Comfort

Feedback: The more_ you_ write...the more _I _write!

Current Muse: Where Are You Going (Dave Matthews Band)

_I Hate Alarm Clocks!_

And, at six a.m. I was, with eyes closed, swinging and swatting at mine...

...finally, succeeding in shutting it up on the fourteenth attempt.

Or maybe it was the fifteenth.

I just don't remember.

Anyway, I've never been what you would call a 'morning person'; and for a moment, I considered turning over and lapsing back into unconsciousness...

...but I couldn't.

I didn't want to waste such a potentially beautiful day.

Besides, it had been two weeks since she'd last heard from me...

...and that was way too long.

So, instead, I forced my eyes open, rolled out of bed, and staggered over to my immaculately tidy desk.

Reaching into the top drawer, I pulled out a new box of writing paper, and the gold Cross pen that Spencer had given me for Christmas.

I didn't bother pausing to think...

...I knew exactly what I was going to say.

_March 22nd_

_Dear Mom:_

_I know it's been almost two weeks since my last letter, and I'm sorry. But just because I haven't written doesn't mean that I don't think of you often._

_Because I do._

_I hope you like this new stationery. The Florentine border reminds me of your favorite red and blue scarf...the one you used to wear when you'd borrow one of Dad's oxford shirts...until Skippy somehow managed to jump up onto your dresser and chew it to shreds. _

_I remember how disappointed you were when you couldn't replace it._

_Report cards came out yesterday, and aside from a B- in chemistry (still my worst subject,) I got all 'A's' again. Sorry about the B-...I promise you that I'm trying my hardest._

_But actually, my report card isn't the main reason I'm writing...and I realize that I should have sent this letter long before now._

_There's something I need to tell you...and I wish you were here with me...so we could talk about it face to face..._

_...because this is really, really important._

_It's something that I could never discuss with Dad, Grand-dad...or even Spencer. _

_But I know that you'll understand._

_Anyway, what I want to tell you is..._

_...I've mentioned Sam in so many of my letters, that by now you must feel you know her really well...almost as well as I do._

_And I'm sure that you realize, by now...from the way I go on and on when I write about her...that she's a person who is incredibly special to me. _

_Well, she is._

_But lately, my feelings for her have been..._

_...different._

_I've been feeling something for her..._

_...that's more than just friendship._

_I care about her very deeply._

_Well, actually it's even more than that...much more...and I'm so scared to tell you...not only because I've never told this to anyone..._

_...but also because I've only very recently admitted it to myself._

_I'm in love with her._

_Mom, I'm pretty sure I'm gay. _

_I hope you're not disappointed in me about this, but I just don't know if you are. You and Dad don't seem to have any gay friends, and you've never mentioned the subject around me...but please, please don't be mad! _

_I know that when you were growing up, being gay wasn't a commonly-accepted thing...and I'm aware that it still isn't. _

_During the past two or three years, I've dated a fair number of boys...including some that I really liked...but when I tried to make out with them, it always felt very...wrong. _

_I didn't enjoy it. Not at all. _

_I tried to! I swear I did! But I just don't feel it with boys. I'm really sorry._

_I do feel it when I'm with Sam. _

_I've never told her how I feel about her, which means that we've never actually kissed or anything...and she's never said anything about having those kinds of feelings for me...the subject has just never come up...but, because of the endless things she does for me...and how she constantly looks out for me...and because of the way she takes care of me when I'm upset...and for a hundred other reasons...I sometimes think that maybe she does feel the same way about me..._

_...but I'm too scared to ask..._

_...because, if she doesn't, and if she's repulsed at the way I feel, I don't want to lose her._

_Nothing could be more horrible than that._

_I don't know what to do. _

_Mom, I'm so confused right now. I wish you were here to give me advice, because I could really use some._

_I'm not sure what to say to her...or when to say it...or even if I'm ever going to say anything at all. _

_I hope she says or does something soon that gives me a clue to how she feels...so I'll have some idea of what to do._

_I realize you may be thinking that seventeen is kind of young for me to know something like this about myself..._

_...but I know myself pretty well._

_And, even though it's so hard to admit...both to you and to myself...I've struggled with this for a very long time..._

_...and I'm sure it's who I am. _

_Please try to understand that the last thing I want to do is to hurt you, or for you to be upset with me...but I have to be completely honest with you..._

_...and I pray that you can still accept me...and still love me...no matter what you think of this._

_Anyway, she's probably coming over later today. I can't wait. When we're together, I feel like I couldn't possibly ask for anything else..._

_...because all the happiness I've ever dreamed of is right in front of me._

_Please give my love to Grandmom, and tell her that I've been trying hard to master her Spice Cake recipe. It usually turns out pretty well, but it's still nowhere near as good as hers. _

_But then again, I'm not one to give up easily...as I'm sure you know._

_All my love,_

_Carly_

I read it through twice...

...and then I took a deep breath.

There was no turning back now.

Getting up from my desk, I pulled a pair of sweat pants over my bare legs, and then put on my sneakers, which I didn't bother to tie, and then a jacket.

I folded the two sheets of paper and put them into the matching envelope, which I sealed with countless kisses. Then I addressed it, and put it into the inside pocket of my jacket...

...over my heart.

And, after making a pit stop to pee...

...I silently headed downstairs.

As I sneaked through the living room, I noticed that Spencer's bedroom door was closed; but, even if it had been open, I was being so quiet that he wouldn't have woken up anyway.

I left the apartment, locking the door behind me...

...noticing as I did, that the eighth floor hallway was deserted...

...which it usually is at seven in the morning...

...so no one joined me in the elevator...

...which was exactly what I wanted.

And, as I exited on the top floor of my building...

...it was a relief to see that all was quiet up here as well.

Perfect.

I made my way down the hall, past numerous apartments full of still-blissfully-asleep tenants, to the door at the far end...

...and, walking through it...

...I found myself in a large, cluttered storage/utility room.

It was an area I knew well...

...so I easily and expertly stepped over and around all kinds of junk, as I made my way to its far side...

...over to the door marked 'Roof'.

The key was where it always was...under the abandoned, half-rusted air conditioner which sat on the floor nearby.

After unlocking the door and replacing the key...

...I stepped outside...

...and immediately tripped over a huge pile of tangled electrical cables.

Flailing wildly, I managed to grab the edge of the still-open door with both hands and to regain my balance. I'd heard that new lighting was going to be installed on the roof...and apparently the project was now underway.

After kicking my feet clear of the wiring, I closed the door behind me, wedging it open a crack with a stray piece of cardboard.

And then, I breathed in as deeply as I could...

...completely filling my lungs with the still-fresh air of early morning.

Straining my ears, and not hearing any voices...

...I walked confidently around to my favorite side of the tower.

The side facing east.

I had arrived just in time.

The sun was coming up...

...soon cresting the top of the Barclay hotel across the street...

...and spilling its rays over the parapet of my own building...

...and across the roof...

...and over me...

...as I leaned back against the wall behind me...

...and looked out across the pink-and-gold, mist-shrouded rooftops of the city.

After I'd had my fill of the view of early morning Seattle, I headed for the low, recessed area under the corner of the roof's left-hand parapet.

It had originally been used for storage, but was now long forgotten...

...which made it a perfect spot for hiding stuff.

My stuff.

With a final glance in all directions, to make sure I was indeed alone, I got down on my knees, crawled forward a bit, lifted the front of the abandoned, faded, forest green canvas tarp...

...and pulled out my portable hibachi...

...and the half-full, waterproof bag of charcoal.

After reaching into my pocket for a box of matches...

...I filled the tray with charcoal...

...and lit it...

...and, four matches later...

...once the coals had ignited properly...

...I carefully set my mom's letter on top of the grate.

And, as the edges of the heavy, ecru-colored envelope began to char and curl...

...I lay down on my back, on the slightly dew-dampened cement, watching as the smoke ascended into heaven...

...and as the sun's steadily-brightening rays spilled across me and warmed my body...

...and I smiled...

...because, even though it was currently still late-March...

...it felt a lot more like mid-May.

A rare, sunny, _absolutely perfect_ Saturday morning.

No one knew that I did this...not Spencer, and not even Sam.

I began talking to my mom, in my bedroom, when I was eight...which was the year I had lost her. Then one day, about four years ago, while in the elevator, I'd overheard two supers talking. So I knew where to find the key.

And I started coming up here often...to be as near to her as I could.

And to send her my letters.

Even though Sam didn't know anything about this...I'd invited her, several times, to join me up here...

...wanting to hang out (and hoping to _make out_)...

...but she always refused.

Enthusiastically.

Even though I'd never insult her by saying it, I could tell, from her extensive repertoire of increasingly-creative excuses, that she's incredibly terrified of heights.

Yes, my rough and ready, kick-your-ass-in-a-heartbeat Sam is strictly a ground warrior.

As the sun climbed higher and its rays enveloped me completely, I closed my eyes...

...and stretched lazily in all directions...

...loving its caress.

I wish I could stay here all day...

...but the charcoal was burning out...

...and I realized that it was much more important for me to be at home...

...in case Sam called or came over...

...which she frequently did on Saturdays.

Because, even though we'd spent most of yesterday together at school...

...I couldn't wait to see her again.

So, with a sigh, I sat up, stirred the embers carefully to make sure they were completely out...

...and then, I returned everything to its place...

...and headed back downstairs...

...definitely to breakfast...

...and, hopefully, to Sam.

Since I had tentatively planned to take her for an afternoon outing to Meridian Park, I hoped that the sunny weather would continue for the rest of the day.

It didn't.

By noon, the sky was completely overcast...

...and, as it darkened...

...so did my mood...

...as hour after hour dragged by...

...with no word from Sam.

Finally, dejected and disappointed...and completely ignoring the lunch that was sitting in front of me on the kitchen table...I slumped down in my chair.

Spencer looked across at me in concern. "What's wrong, Kiddo? Still too much pepper in the Caesar dressing? I used a lot less than last time."

I shook my head. "No. It's okay."

"Well then...is the chicken too spicy?"

"No, everything's fine," I assured him. "It's just...I'm just not very...I...have some stuff on my mind right now."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Is it anything you'd like to talk about?"

I glanced over at my phone on the kitchen counter...

...and then at the front door...

...before looking back at him. "No...but thanks."

With a nod, he turned back to his food...

...while I spent the next fifteen minutes staring at my phone...

...trying to _will_ it to ring

Finally, with a sympathetic and reassuring smile, Spencer got up from the table; cleared away his empty salad bowl, bread plate, knife, fork, and glass; and took them over to the sink.

And then, he walked up behind my chair...

...put his hands on my shoulders...

...and leaned down. "Don't worry," he said, "I'm sure you'll hear from her sometime this afternoon."

I nodded...

...as, without speaking, he leaned down farther...

...and hugged me...

...and then, thinking it over...

...and realizing that he was probably right...

...and, as a result, feeling much more reassured...

...I attacked my salad.

Spencer walked over to the coat tree near our front door, grabbed a jacket, and shrugged it on. "Socko and I are headed over to the studio...we're doing the fall catalog photo shoot this afternoon...but I'll probably be home by around six-thirty...in time to make dinner."

I nodded.

He left.

After finishing my own lunch, I washed the dishes and tidied the kitchen, and then...

...I started to get impatient again.

I wish she would call.

I didn't even know where she was...or what she had planned for the day.

And not knowing was driving me nuts...

...not because I'm a crazy, obsessive stalker (I'm not), but because Sam is pretty much all I think about anymore.

For the record, I've_ always_ been concerned about her when we're not together...

...wondering if she's okay...

...worrying if she's had enough...or anything at all...to eat (her mother is very neglectful)...

...hoping that she's staying out of trouble...

...but lately, I've noticed that, even when she's not directly on my mind, she's usually hanging around the perimeter, just out of sight...

...and showing up unexpectedly and often...

...when I'm awake...

.._.and_ in my dreams.

I wish I knew where she is...

...and if she's thinking about me.

I love her.

Can she sense that?

I always find myself wondering what she's thinking, and what she's doing, and what she's feeling.

Does she ever get lonely and miss me...when she's alone in her room? The way that I do in mine...when she's not here?

Does she ever realize, when she's standing or sitting so close to me, how hard it is for me to refrain from throwing myself into her arms and crying as I tell her that she's everything to me? And that I can't imagine life without her?

Does she have those kinds of feelings for me?

Does she love me?

Could she _ever_ love me...

...the way I want her to?

Oh, God...I wish she'd call!

I fell back onto the living room couch and turned on the TV.

Less than five minutes later, I turned it off.

I just wasn't in the mood...

...so instead, I sat...

...staring at the front door...

...trying to call her to me telepathically...

...which was a complete waste of time.

Two o'clock came and went...

...with no word from her.

Finally, I was way too restless to sit anymore.

Getting up off the couch, I began wandering, slowly and aimlessly, through the downstairs; straying from room to room, while trying (and failing) to get her out of my mind...temporarily.

I hope she's okay. Wait, what am I saying? Of course she's okay! Sam is tough, resilient, and resourceful.

But then again, once in a very great while, I get to see her vulnerable side, when she lets her guard down...

...which she does only in front of me. I know it means that she trusts me...

...but could it also mean that...

...she loves me?

I meandered down the hallway and entered Spencer's bedroom.

As usual, it was disorganized...but it was clean.

I drifted around it several times...stopping here and there...picking up random items from his dressers, desk, and tables; looking at them, and then setting them back down.

I remember reading somewhere that every object a person owns and touches retains an imprint of them...a kind of memory.

I wish I had something like that of Sam's...

...but then again, Sam doesn't really have much of anything. I have some of her clothes, in a dresser drawer that's reserved for her...so I guess that's _something_...but still, I wish I had-

The splattering sound against the window I was standing next to pulled me out of my deep, brooding reverie...

...and I looked outside.

It had started to rain...

...hard...

...which did absolutely nothing to cheer me up.

I wandered back out of Spencer's room...

...and upstairs to my own.

Closing the door behind me, I lit my table lamp, and fell back onto the bed. How could a day that had begun with such promise...

...so beautiful...

...and so perfect...

...and so full of possibilities...

...turn so utterly suckish so quickly?

I turned the question over in my mind several times...

...but ultimately, was forced to give it up.

Despite the lamp's glow, a general aura of gloominess pervaded the room. I kicked off my shoes and, not bothering to get undressed, or to get under the covers of my unmade bed...

...I closed my eyes...

...realizing as I did that it was a complete waste of time.

I knew that there was no way I was going to be able to sleep.

I wish Sam was here with me.

She's spent the night, from time to time, but we'd never kissed...

...or cuddled...

...and it's both frustrating and heartbreaking to have her lying so near to me, and wanting...so desperately...to reach out and hold her...

...but knowing that I don't dare.

What am I going to do?

I shifted restlessly on the mattress, wishing that I had something to occupy myself...

...something to take my mind off her...

...and off my dilemma.

I thought about calling her; but I had already called her five times during the past week, so it was, most definitely, her turn to call me.

I wish she was here...

...so badly.

I wouldn't mind the rain so much if she was here...because even if I couldn't touch her, I could look into her cerulean blue eyes...

...and see her warm smile...

...and look at her lying next to me...

...and watch as her chest slowly rises and falls, with every breath she takes...

...and look at the way her perfect legs carelessly sprawl on the mattress.

She's so beautiful.

I don't understand why so many other people fail to see it when they look at her.

When they look at...

...when they look...

...at...

Suddenly...

...I knew what I wanted to do.

Sitting up, I stared across the room...

...at my dresser...

...and then, I slowly got out of bed and walked over to it...

...and, crouching down...

...I reached under it...

...and, after sweeping my hand back and forth several times...

...I found it.

And I withdrew my hand...

...and pulled out...

...the latest edition of the _Victorian Secrets_ catalog.

It had just arrived in the mail, two days ago, and I had stashed it under here until I'd have a chance to look at it properly.

Alone.

You're probably thinking that it's crazy for me to hide a lingerie catalog like it's porn...and maybe you're right. After all, I'm a seventeen year-old girl, so I could just as easily keep it right on my nightstand, and no one would bat an eye...not Spencer...and not even Sam (who probably wouldn't even give it a second glance or thought, since she hates_ any and all_ girly stuff).

But still, I hid it...

...because I'm ashamed of the way I've been looking at their catalogs lately.

And ashamed of the thoughts and feelings I've been having while I do...

...the same thoughts and feelings I have when I look at or think about Sam.

At first, it was only once in a while that I'd think about her in that way...

...but now it's becoming a lot more frequent...

...and a lot more explicit.

I was brought up believing that nice girls didn't think about things like this...

...not in this way.

But I do...

...and it's so bewildering to me...

...and so frightening...

...that it makes me want to cry...

...but I don't.

And, worst of all, there's no one I can talk to about it.

No one.

I hope I can figure it all out someday.

I paused...

...considering tossing the catalog into the wastebasket...

...and trying to think about something else...

...something non-lascivious...

...like a proper young lady should...

...but I didn't.

I couldn't.

So, I walked over to my bedroom door and locked it (yes...paranoid with a _capital '_p_'_)...

...and settled back onto the bed, with my back against the headboard.

And then...

...I looked down at the cover...

...at the girl with the extremely wind-swept, brown hair...

...with one arm flung up and across (and obscuring) half of her face...

...wearing a bra that looked like it had been stuffed with two mutant cantaloupes.

Fake boobies.

Yuck.

There's a _Victorian Secrets _store at the Seattle Arcadia mall, but I don't usually shop there. I _did_ go in there once...last year. I bought a bottle of cologne, and paid with a credit card...

...and that's how I ended up on their mailing list.

This is the third issue they've sent me.

I quickly flipped through the catalog.

I swear that this one should be titled, 'Bad Hair Edition', because most of the girls look like they're standing in the middle of a Nor'easter.

Oh, well.

As an unwelcome twinge of guilt made me flinch sharply...

...I opened to the first page.

The other two catalogs I received from this company featured lingerie first...and outer clothes last...

...but in this one, the two sections were reversed...

...and I looked down at the model on page 3...

...who was wearing a very short, belted khaki trench coat...

...and, apparently, nothing else.

She had a pretty face...

...but not as pretty as Sam's.

I turned the page.

On page 4, I found my gaze returned by a platinum-haired model with a vacant stare...

...and freakishly-large, overly-enhanced lips...

...reminiscent of a pelican's...

...and on the opposite page was a redhead, who looked like she'd been subsisting on heroin sandwiches for the past five years.

I'll bet she'd be a cheap date.

Waiter: 'May I take your order?'

Her: 'I'll have a crouton and a glass of water!'

Both of them were wearing outfits that I wouldn't be caught dead in.

The 'page 4 lady' was wearing an unspeakably-hideous abomination called a 'Caftan'...in colors that remind me of a 'bad LSD trip' scene that I saw in a 'Drug Prevention' film, at my school last year.

The 'page 5 lady' had on a dress that looked like an oil tanker had collided with a Red Cross collection van (random splashes of black...and slashes of red...set against a death-pallor gray background).

No thanks.

As much as I love fashion...

...I'd never pursue a career as a model...

...because of the hideous outfits they often have to wear.

I turned the page.

The next two photos were definitely an improvement.

They both featured the same cute, blonde model.

On page 6, she was wearing a nautically-inspired, cotton crew neck sweater...mostly ivory...with horizontal navy stripes, and a pair of loose-fitting, straight-leg jeans in a faded shade of blue called 'summer sky'.

I could totally picture Sam in that outfit...

...and it would look great on her.

She was standing on a deserted beach, in the glowing, slanting sunshine of late afternoon...

...Sam's favorite time of day.

On page 7, she was kneeling at the water's edge, with the surf swirling around her knees, wearing something called a 'boyfriend shirt', in a dusty, Newport blue-and-cream madras plaid, with the sleeves rolled up; and a pair of oversized and relaxed-fit khaki twill shorts.

Again, I could easily see Sam wearing that...

...and looking fantastic in it.

Actually, the model kind of reminds me of Sam...

...with her blonde, windswept hair, softly-rounded chest, and tanned legs.

The next four pages featured sleepwear...

...and, in the midst of all the sheer, frilly, lacy stuff, one item stood out: A pair of white and aqua, windowpane-plaid cotton pajamas.

They weren't girly at all, but were designed like men's PJ's.

Sam would look really good in those.

They were being modeled by another blonde girl, who was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows of a city apartment, with a sweeping and stunning view of the skyline in the background; with one hand resting on the window sill, leaning against it, and the other hand in her long blond hair.

The pajama jacket was completely unbuttoned and gapped open nicely in the front, affording a spectacular view of her bare chest...

...from her neck all the way down her lower abdomen...

...including a hint of cleavage from her (thankfully real) breasts.

The matching drawstring pants were sitting very low on her hips...

...about two inches above her vulva.

Wow.

I'll bet Sam's chest and stomach look like that...all taut and smooth and kissable.

The girl had a pretty face...at least the parts of it that I could see through the hair that was flying across it.

(I thought those windows were _closed_.)

Whatever.

She was gorgeous.

And her eyes reminded me of Sam's

I wish Sam was here right now...

...wearing those pajamas...

...looking at me in that way.

I turned the page.

Usually I'd check out the collection of shoes which came next...

...but I just wasn't in the mood at the moment...

...especially after catching a glimpse of the knee high, powder blue, fringed-and-beaded gladiator sandals on page 12!

Likewise, I skipped the entire 'Handbags' section...

...and the 'Accessories' section...

...and the 'Fragrances' section...

...coming, at long last...

...to a much more entertaining part of the catalog...

...the "Lingerie' section!

The bras were pictured first.

I've been to _Build-A-Bra_ with Sam a few times, but she always went into a _separate_ dressing room (despite my eager suggestions that we 'make room for the other shoppers' and _share_ one), and I never got to see her in any of the ones she picked out, but I know for a fact that she never bought a push-up bra...like the coral-colored one on this first brunette model...

...Sam doesn't need to 'push them up'.

She's also never bought lace...

...which is just as well...

...since I don't really like it anyway...

...because I find it to be very scratchy and impractical.

This model's breasts were freakishly huge.

I've never actually seen Sam's bare chest...although I have 'sorta-kinda' seen it...when she stays over and wears just a T-shirt to bed...but, even with her shirt on...

...it's obvious that her breasts are beautiful.

I turned my attention away from the model's 'basketball boobs', and toward the rest of her body. Unfortunately, she was only pictured from the waist up, so I had no idea what her lower half looked like, but she had a magnificent, flat stomach, and pretty (wind-blown(!) hair, and angular shoulders...

...and, as I looked her over...

...closely and appraisingly...

...I felt my cheeks flush...

...as I felt the first faint, but unmistakeable, stirring in the pit of my stomach...

...and realized what was starting to happen to me...

...and what was soon_ going_ to happen.

I wondered what the rest of her looks like...

...and tried to picture it.

I'll bet she's wearing matching, coral-colored panties...

...which are so low-cut that they show off most of the long expanse of her perfect stomach...

...and which contour perfectly around her superbly-curved butt...

...which probably segues into a pair of long, tanned, toned, thighs...I thought...

...as I felt the first sharp contraction between my own.

I didn't spend a lot of time looking at the bras in this section...

...but rather, on what was inside them.

Unfortunately, I didn't like most of what I saw...

...because, even though the majority of of the models were otherwise attractive...

...they were obviously siliconed to the max.

So I focused instead on the rest of their bodies...

...very closely...

...becoming very aware, as I did...

...of the changes which were gradually, but definitely, taking place within my own...

...feeling the nerve endings inside my vulva becoming more and more sensitive...

...and the area beginning to swell...

...as it became engorged...

...and as I became more and more aroused...

...with every page that I turned.

At first I tried to resist...

...looking away from the pictures...

...shaking my head, attempting to clear it...

...and then trying really, really hard to look at the models in an objective, detached, clinical kind of way...

...the way that a straight girl who was shopping for underwear _should_...

...but, before long, I had to give in to my urges...

...because they were way too strong...

...and I had to give in to the the models' pictures...

...because their bodies were having such a profound effect on mine...

...one that I found impossible to ignore...

...or to resist...

...and I squirmed in conflict...

...with my feelings alternating between shame and lust, as I realized...

...that I really didn't want to anyway.

I _wanted_ to keep looking...

...and to keep fantasizing...

...and to keep feeling what I was feeling in the pit of my stomach...

...and in the area between my legs.

And so, completely surrendering to my steadily-growing, totally compelling longing and desire...

...I turned the page...

...and came, at last, to my favorite section of all.

Panties.

_Yes._

The first picture wasn't very inspiring. It featured something called a 'Z-string', which bears a very strong resemblance to a narrow shoelace...and, as you might expect, doesn't cover much. The stupid thing makes thongs look positively voluminous! I mean...if that's all you're going to wear...then you may as well 'go commando'.

Anyway, it was being worn by a raven-haired, pissed-off-looking model, whose expression suggested that she was dangerously close to whipping out an Uzi (where the hell would she hide it(?) and splattering your brains across the wall behind you.

One arm was strategically placed across her chest...so I have no idea what her boobs looked like, but she was severely thin...kind of like the subjects of Erte lithographs.

She's probably a real bee-yotch in bed.

I wonder what that would be like.

Having had zero experience in sex thus far, I can only speculate...

...but looking at her made me picture all sorts of nasty scenarios...

...which I didn't find the least bit appealing...

...since I'm not into pain and suffering...

...because I currently have more than enough of both in my life as it is.

I wasn't sorry to turn the page...

...to another model...brunette this time...

...with her back to the camera.

She was looking over her right shoulder...

...but, despite her very attractive face...

...my eyes were riveted to the mesmerizing view of the light blue, satin bikini panties that were stretched tight across her flawless butt.

Oh. My. God.

Eagerly and hungrily, I flipped through the last few pages.

Hmm...she's cute...

...hmm...she's pretty...

...hmm...she's beautiful...

...hmm...she's hot...

...hmm..._I'm_ gay!

With a sigh, I turned to the back cover...

...to the picture that made my day...

..._my month!_

This model looked younger than the others.

Her blonde hair cascaded halfway down her back, which was facing the camera...

...and she had her right knee up on an antique chair, with red and gold striped satin upholstery.

Her left hand was on her hip...

...and her right hand was pulling her gray T-shirt up nearly to shoulder level, as she looked back at me over it.

She was wearing white silk panties...

...which looked absolutely stunning against her perfectly-tanned skin.

White silk panties.

My absolute favorite.

I wonder what Sam would look like in those...

...but I'll probably never find out, because she hates any and all girly clothes. And, on the rare occasions when I've seen her without her pants on, she's always wearing boxers...which I have to admit are cute on her...

...but aren't nearly revealing enough.

I know for a fact that she actually _does _own one pair of panties...ugly, boring, cotton ones that say 'I heart Vegas'. They were an atrocious Christmas gift from her mom, and they're Sam's 'bottom-of-the-drawer' underwear...which means that she only wears them as a very last resort.

I looked more closely at the ones the model had on.

I wish she'd wear these. I'll bet she'd look even better in them than this girl does.

I love Sam...

...and I love silk...

.._.and I want her to wear panties!_ So badly! Then, Sam's outfits would match the rest of her: Rugged on the outside...

...but incredibly soft (and probably sensual) on the inside.

My eyes devoured the girl in the picture. She was smiling, and even though her back was to the camera...I'll bet that her breasts are real.

I wish I could see them.

I wish she'd let me touch them.

She looks so hot.

Her butt was perfect, her legs were flawless, and, since her right knee was up on the chair...

...they were spread far apart...

...and all I could think of was how badly I wanted to slide my hand up inside them...

...from the front...

...and to explore the warm, inverted valley between them...

…for hours on end...

...wondering how it would feel against my hand...

...and if Sam would enjoy the way I was touching it...

...and if she would feel the same forceful contractions that I was now feeling...

...and if the both of us would feel her getting wet...

...like I was beginning to.

I closed my eyes...

...and pictured her lying next to me...

...looking up at me in breathless anticipation...

...as I slowly undressed her...

...removing her shirt...

...and then her bra...

...and then her jeans...

...until she was wearing nothing but a pair of sleek, white silk underpants...

...which hugged her body like a second skin...

...and how she would put up absolutely no resistance as I spread her legs apart...

...and lowered my hand between them...

...and placed it against her...

...and how she would tilt her head back and close her eyes...

...as she began to move forward against it...

...non-stop...

...and, as she did, how I would feel the crotch of her panties gradually becoming damp...

...and then soaked...

...as the wetness from her vagina drenched them...

...wetness that _I_ had made happen!

Eyes still closed, I took a ragged breath...

...as I realized that I could feel my heartbeat pounding between my own legs...

...and then, I clearly felt the warm wetness that had steadily been collecting between the swollen lips of my own vulva...

...and filling it completely...

...until it absolutely couldn't hold anymore...

...begin to leak out of it...

...and into the crotch of my own white silk panties.

Oh, God...if she was here right now! I'd seduce her so passionately...and so expertly...that she'd-

I shifted at the thought, and, as I did...

...I felt a second wave of wetness soaking into my panties...

...and then, breathing shallowly and unevenly...

...I tossed the catalog aside...

...and reached across my bed for my other long pillow.

I hugged it to me with one arm...

...and, reaching out with my other...

...I switched off my table lamp...

...because it's so much easier to pretend in semi-darkness.

Lying down on my back, I pulled the pillow down on top of me...

...thinking of Sam...

...imagining that the weight which covered me from my neck to my knees was really the weight of her body on top of mine.

Tightening my arms around the pillow, I rolled over, pinning it under me...

...and kissing it, as I began to push my body forward and downward against her...

...feeling, with every thrust, the plateau of dull ache that had recently settled over my pelvis steadily falling away...

...to be replaced by frequent, sharp, violent contractions...

...which radiated from my center...

...down my thighs and through the rest of my body.

Eyes closed, I rolled over onto my back again...

...letting go of the pillow, and running my hands teasingly through my hair...

...and down my arms...

...and then over my chest...

...which sent shivers racing along every inch of me...

...while the spasms between my legs grew stronger...

...and much more insistent.

I moved my hands onto my chest again, and began to rub my breasts through my shirt...

...for about five seconds...

...before I found myself frantically yanking it off.

Ignoring my Sam/pillow completely...

...I rolled over onto my stomach again...

...and slid both hands down inside the back of my sweatpants...

...running them over the entire expanse of slippery silk...

...which was warm from my body...

...while vividly picturing Sam's hands back there instead of my own...

...caressing...

...rubbing...

..._grabbing_...

...as she whispered that she was going to do things to me that I had only dreamed about...

...and things that I had_ never _dreamed were possible...

...while I felt my pelvis slam forward and downward into the mattress...

...as every single muscle in it clenched violently.

_Absolutely_ _aching_ from my arousal, I rolled back over...

...and, breathing shallowly and raggedly...

...i plunged my right hand down inside the front of my sweatpants...

...opening my legs wide as I did...

...and feeling equal parts shame and satisfaction...

...as my fingers discovered the soaking-wet state of my panties.

Trembling violently...

...I trailed my fingers teasingly up and down their saturated exterior...

...embarrassed at the knowledge that I had _never_ been so wet before...

...and then, less than a minute later...

...completely unable to wait any longer...

...I slid my hand down inside them...

...and began to finger myself.

But, even though I was now completely aroused...

...and the formerly-intermittent contractions between my legs were steadily becoming more frequent...

...and more violent...

...I was also completely anxious...

...because, even though I've tried really hard in the past...

...I've_ never_ been able to orgasm with just my hand.

In fact, as unbelievable as this may sound...

...in my entire life, I've only ever had one orgasm...

...and I slept through it.

I can't remember what the dream was about...

...but it must have been an amazing one...

...because, when I woke up, I realized, from the way my body felt...

...that I had just orgasmed.

Hard.

I pushed that memory out of my mind and focused all my attention on my fingers...

...and the way they were stimulating my clitoris...

...because I was determined to 'have one' this time...

...but, after nearly ten minutes...

...I came to a frustrated, almost tearful stop.

I can't!

I want to so badly...but I can't!

I want to...no, I _need_ to cum!

So badly!

Right now!

And then...

...I came to a complete physical and mental halt...

...as I realized...

...that there's one way that I _can _orgasm...

...a way that I've known about for a while...

...but have never actually tried...

...because I was too scared...

...and still am.

But, still realizing that I desperately needing release...

...I began to touch myself again...

...thinking of Sam...

...rubbing so hard...

...and throbbing _so hard_...

...but, ultimately, having to acknowledge that it wasn't working.

I stilled my hand and slammed my head back against the pillow in utter frustration.

I want to orgasm...I _have_ to!

And...there's one way that I'll be able to...

...and, even though it's frightening...

...I have to admit that...

...I...

...want to.

Since Spencer wasn't home, there was no point in getting dressed...

...so I opened my bedroom door and, still wearing nothing but my panties, I walked, heart pounding, down the hall...

...and into the bathroom.

I turned on light...

...as I stood near the door...

...still uncertain...

...but still achingly unfulfilled...

...and ultimately realizing that...

...I have to.

So, I crossed the room...

...approached the vanity...

...and opened the bottom drawer.

I looked down at it for a long time.

It had been lying in here, untouched, for nearly three years...

...since my dad had last used it on his bad back.

He had bought it on the advice of his physical therapist...

...and hadn't needed it since...

...but I _did_ need it.

Right now.

The massager was white and teal...and had a huge, wedge-shaped head.

It was clearly designed for external use...

...which was fine with me.

I'm saving my virginity for Sam.

Still, I hesitated. No one that I knew used...toys. Would doing this make me a perv?

Within seconds of deliberating this question, the powerful, pounding ache between my legs managed to convince me that...

...I didn't care.

Finally, I reached out and picked it up...

...and hesitated again...

...as I debated...

...for several additional, very long minutes...

...but, in the end...

...lust won out...

...and I tightened my grip on it...

...and slowly walked, trembling (for more than one reason), back to my bedroom.

After locking the door, I sat down on my bed and stared at what I was holding.

And then...

...less than a minute later...

...I surrendered to my body's insistent demands...

...completely...

...and, hands shaking...

...I plugged it in.

Setting it down beside me...

...I lay on down on my back...

...bending my knees, with my feet flat on the mattress, and then...

...slowly and breathlessly...

...I opened my legs.

Closing my eyes, I slowly trailed my fingers down my chest, between my breasts...

...and then down my stomach...

...down the slippery surface of the outside of the front of my panties...

...down between my legs...

...and then, pretending that the fingers between them were Sam's, and not my own...

...I lightly, gently, tickled myself through the white silk which clung wetly to my crotch.

As I did, my pelvis lurched up off the bed as every muscle in the area spasmed...

...simultaneously and violently.

I want her to touch me...this way..._so badly!_

Lowering my shuddering hips down onto the mattress again...

...I continued tickling myself...

...gradually increasing the pressure from my fingertips...

...feeling as my panties steadily went from 'wet' to 'soaked'...

...finally pressing my fingers against them so tightly...

...that they easily penetrated my outer lips...

...and then, I began a frenzied assault on my clitoris...

...rubbing it, brutally hard _and_ incredibly fast, through my panties...

...until, realizing that I just couldn't wait any longer...

...I reached down beside me...

...and picked up the massager.

I was so scared.

I had never done anything like this before...even though I'd thought about it...

...more than once.

But I didn't stop.

I couldn't.

Without turning it on, I lowered it between my legs...

...and pressed it against myself...

...immediately feeling a massive jolt of anticipation run through me...

...as my body realized what was about to happen...

...and then, I began to push my pelvis forward against it...

...over and over...

...until, finally, I couldn't take it anymore...

...and, setting the massager next to me for a moment...

...I lifted my hips...

...and pulled my panties down.

Once they were at my knees, I picked it up again...

...pausing...

...reflecting on what I was about to do...

...and on everything that it meant...

...and then, with the switch still in the 'off' position...

... I lowered it between my legs once again...

...and, spreading the lips of my vulva apart with my left hand...

...I positioned the wedge-shaped tip against the left side of my clitoris...

...and, turning my head to one side, facing the window...

...I saw the steel-gray sky on the other side of it...

...and the raindrops running down it..

..._and Sam's face pressed against it_.

With a strangled gasp, I yanked the massager's plug out of the wall, reached down for the covers which were tangled at my feet, pulled them up to my chin, and shoved the massager and the Victorian Secrets catalog under them.

Oh-God-Oh-God-Oh-God-Oh-God-Oh God!

What, if anything, did she just see? Even though the room was semi-dark?

_OH, GOD!_

Shaking violently, with equal measures of guilt and fear, I turned my attention back to the window...

...to Sam.

Her face was kind of scrunched up, whether from trying to see in, or from disgust, I didn't know.

Wrestling with my voice to keep it steady, I called, "It's unlocked,"...

...and she pushed up the sash...

...and climbed inside...

...covered with rain.

Closing the window, she turned to face me.

"Carls?" was all she said.

"Y-yeah?" I managed to get out.

"Is everything uh...okay?" she asked tentatively.

"Y-y-y-ep."

After a sweeping glance around the darkened room, she crossed over to my side of the bed, and sat down on the edge of it...

...and then, before I could stop her...

...she lit my table lamp...

...and I slid even farther down under the covers.

Turning around on the mattress, she leaned over me and smiled. "Good to see ya!"

(Oh, the irony!)

"B-back at ya," I replied...

...glad that she _couldn't see_ that, aside from my panties, which were still down around my knees...

...I was completely naked.

She glanced at the clock on my nightstand. "Hey, it's almost four, which means that Girl Cow is about to come on...so let's go downstairs and watch it," she stated enthusiastically...

...grabbing the edge of the covers...

...which I hurriedly yanked from her hand.

"Sam...you're soaked!"

"Aw, a little rain never hurt anyone...it's not like I'm _'Dry clean only'_," she reminded me.

"I know...but _still_. Grab some clean clothes and go take a shower."

"Okay...okay!" she agreed (reluctantly), heading for my dresser.

As soon as she'd left the room, I threw the covers off, jumped out of bed, shoved the catalog and massager down under it...dragged my wet panties off, and flung them into the hamper. I wished I could 'clean up', but Sam was in the bathroom, so I grabbed a pair of clean panties, pulled them on, and then retrieved my T-shirt and sweat pants, and put them on again.

I jumped back onto the bed.

About ten minutes later, Sam came back in...clean, dressed, and dry (except for her still-damp-from-the-shower hair). She crossed the room, grabbed my hairbrush from the dresser, and then came back and sat down on the edge of my side of the bed.

"So...what were you doing in here anyway?" she asked casually, running the brush through her tangled curls.

"Uh...just trying to take a nap," I lied...

...as I grabbed the damp towel she had tossed down beside me...

...and furtively cleaned the 'Carly-covered' fingers of my right hand.

Apparently (and hopefully...oh, God, _Please!_) buying it, she nodded. "I was going to come over earlier but I..._ow!_" she exclaimed...

...encountering a knot.

"Here, let me," I offered, sitting up, schooching back against the headboard, bending my knees, and gesturing toward the open space between them.

She thought it over for a moment and then nodded...

...so I took the hairbrush from her...

...and she scrambled up onto the bed, and sat down, facing away from me...

..._between my legs!_

Thrilled at having her body so close to my own, I took my time brushing her hair...ever-so-gently untangling the few knots I found...as she sat, patiently and quietly. Just as I was finishing, she reached up with her left hand and started rubbing the back of her neck.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah...just a little stiff right now."

"From what...dare I ask?" I inquired...

...setting the brush aside, gently moving her hand away, and resting my own hands on her shoulders.

"Well, you remember my cousin Garth, the one who was...oh, Carls...oh, that feels _so_ good!" she moaned...

...as I began caressing her shoulders and neck.

"Glad y-you like it...g-go on," I encouraged, gently probing for the sore spots, and carefully working them out...

...as she continued, "Well, he's been out on parole for awhile now, but he's been having a hard time finding a job, so he decided to do some painting."

"Isn't that what landed him in jail in the first place?" I asked.

"No, not graffiti..._interior_ _walls!" _she corrected me. "His old apartment building, the one over on Fourth and Madison, is 'going condo', and it's completely vacant right now, and he managed to convince the landlord to let him paint the place, so now he's...oh yeah, Carls...right _there!"_

I focused on the 'bad spot' at the top of her right trapezius...

...and I'm pretty sure I got rid of it...

...because, less than a minute later...

...to my total surprise and elation...

...she leaned back against me...

...with a sigh.

"Feeling better?" I asked.

She nodded.

"I'm so glad," I replied...

...as I tried to decide where to rest my hands...

...finally settling on laying them, palms down on top of my thighs.

Sam exhaled, and as she did...

...I felt her body relax against mine...

...and I had to remind myself to breathe.

When I had finally forced my own breath into a steady cadence, I said as evenly as I could, "So...the place is going condo-"

"Oh, yeah," she continued, "anyway, the building has a total of twenty-six apartments, so Garth needed help. At first he was using his friend Lew, but that guy's a completely unreliable drunkard, so, after only two days Garth fired him, and then he asked me to help him out...with the whole project. Right now we're moving abandoned furniture down to the basement-"

"Wow, Sam Puckett doing any kind of physical activity? I never thought I'd see the day!" I teased.

She stiffened slightly. "Well...yeah, but the the money's really good. I'm getting $125 a day, under the table."

"Not bad...are you done for the day now?" I asked...

...hopefully.

"Well, for the afternoon anyway," she answered, shifting her weight...

...causing her back to rub against my breasts...

...and unknowingly driving me crazy.

After a minute or two of silence, she continued, "Carls, I was wondering...if you wanna go to the movies with me tomorrow."

I hesitated. "Uh, I thought the health inspectors closed the Humongo-plex earlier this week...when they found those twenty-seven rats in the concession stand," I reminded her.

"Well, yeah...they did...but there's a couple of great movies playing over at the Warwick."

"Which ones?" I asked eagerly.

"I'll give you a hint," she replied. "The first one, you've been meaning to see since it came out. It's the story of two gay ranchers who were forced to leave the mountains and relocate to the city."

"You mean...'Sheepless in Seattle'?"

"That's the one!" she answered with a laugh. " And the other one I've been wanting to see. It's an Action Movie, and it's based on a certain cartoon that we both _love._"

"Duh...I have no idea which one that is," I teased.

"The new Girly Cow movie," she answered...

...sounding slightly annoyed.

"Just joking, Sam! I've heard of it. Isn't it the one where Girly Cow joins a street gang?"

"Yeah. It's called 'Die Herd: Cuds vs. Cripps'," she announced...

...trying (and failing) to suppress a yawn.

I tilted my head forward, next to her ear. "Someone's getting sleepy," I said in a low voice.

"Not really...I just moved a ton of furniture...but I'll get my second wind soon," she announced...

...but right then, I decided that I wanted her to stay right here...

...with me...

...all night.

"Yes, you _are_ tired, Sam...I can tell," I replied quietly.

She shook her head.

I ignored her.

"Anyway, I'd love to go to see both movies with you tomorrow," I continued. "We could have Sunday brunch together around ten a.m., and then go to the theater in the afternoon."

As she nodded, I felt her sigh...

...and felt the way her completely relaxed body was lying against mine...

...and then...

...nervous as hell...

...but knowing that I'd hate myself for the rest of my life if I let this incredibly rare opportunity pass...

...I slowly lifted my palms from my thighs...

...and gently wrapped my arms around her.

She let me.

"Did you walk all the way here in the rain?" I asked softly.

She nodded again, apparently too tired to answer.

"I love the rain," I said...

...slowly and quietly. "The hypnotic way it beats against the windows...and how wonderful it is to be inside...in a warm, comfortable bed...with nowhere to go...with nothing to do..."

Soon, her breathing became more deep...

...and more even...

...and I realized that she was almost out.

I shifted my arms...

...wanting to wrap them more closely around her...

...and, as I did...

...my left hand happened to touch_ hers..._

...and, seconds later...

...her own hand moved slightly...

...and then...

...now barely conscious...

...she slowly intertwined her fingers with mine...

...and, less than a minute later...

...to my utter joy...

...she was asleep in my arms.

I myself was completely incapable of sleep.

All I could do was sit there looking at her...

...in speechless contentment...

...feeling her chest rising and falling against my arms...

...as she breathed...

...and as she dreamed.

After hoping and praying for this...

...for such a long time...

...not sure if it would ever (or_ could _ever) happen...

...it actually, finally has.

Thank you, God.

The feeling of holding her was far beyond total bliss...

...for about five minutes...

...after which...

...due to the quasi-upright position I was sitting in...

...my lower back began to ache.

Badly.

Not wanting the moment to end...

...I tried, heroically, to ignore the pain...

...but, after five minutes more...

...my entire back was killing me.

It was no good.

I was going to have to move.

Determined to do everything in my power to not wake Sam up, I ever-so-slowly eased myself up into a sitting position, and then tried to move her from between my legs, so I could lay us both down...

...but, just as I had almost succeeded in getting her settled next to me...

...her eyes flew open...

...and her fingers released mine.

"Sorry, Carls...didn't mean to doze off on you."

"Shh...it's fine," I said quietly, "really...so just go back to slee-"

I stopped.

"Sam...are you okay?"

"Yeah...why wouldn't I be?" she countered.

I looked at her more closely. "Well, it's just that...your face looks kind of flushed...you're not coming down with anything are you?" I asked with concern, as I reached out and felt her forehead...

...which definitely was warmer than it should have been.

"No, I'm fine," she insisted. "It's just...kind of hot in here, that's all."

"Are you sure?" I asked...

...gently lowering her onto her back

"Yeah, Carls...I'm sure."

"Okay, then...why don't you take off your...here...just...let me-" I said absently...

...reaching down and pushing her '_Rabid Cats Rule!'_ sweatshirt up.

She reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck...

...and I leaned back, lifting her up...

...and then, without too much difficulty, I managed topull it off her.

"There, is that better?" I asked, settling her onto her back again.

She nodded.

With a smile, I set her sweatshirt over on my nightstand, and lay down on my side...

...next to her.

My body must have been blocking her view of the bedside clock because she asked, suddenly, "Carls, what time is it?"

"It's nap time," I said gently

"No, seriously, what time is it?" she insisted...

...rolling onto her side to face me.

"I _am_ being serious, Sam...it's nap time," I repeated quietly.

She shook her head. "No, really...I'm not tired."

"Shh," I said...

...reaching out as I did...

...and beginning to, slowly and gently, rub her left shoulder. "Yes...you _are_."

"I'm not.._.really,_" she insisted, barely suppressing a yawn.

I moved a bit closer. "Oh, yes you are, Sam...it's obvious...so just close your eyes for a little while."

"But...I-" she began...

...but I shook my head.

"Come on," I urged...

...in a voice barely above a whisper...

"...just for a little while."

Suddenly, to my surprise...

...she shivered.

"Oh, no...I really think you're getting sick," I repeated, reaching for her hand...

...which felt like ice.

"I _swear_ I'm not sick, Carls...I'm just...kinda cold right now."

With a nod, I sat up, reached down, and pulled the covers up over us...

...and then...

...heart hammering...

...I slowly yet deliberately draped my right arm over her left side...

...and, placing my palm flat against her back, I pressed it against her slightly...

...and whispered, "Come here."

And, without hesitation, she slid forward a few inches...

...completely closing the gap between us.

"Is that b-better? Do you feel any warmer now?" I asked tentatively.

She moved her head forward...

...and, resting her face against the front of my shoulder...

...she nodded.

And then...

...with my arm still around her...

...and not daring to breathe...

...I slowly rolled over onto my back...

...which pulled her forward...

...and up onto me...

...where she lay...

...with her body completely relaxed.

I took a few steadying breaths...

...waiting, fearfully, expecting her to roll off me...

...and far across the bed...

...and words don't exist to describe my relief...

...when she didn't.

I turned my head on the pillow and looked at her face.

Her eyes were closed...

...and her breathing was slow and even.

Reaching down, I touched her hand...

...which was (thankfully) warm now...

...hoping that her fingers would entwine with mine once more...

…but they didn't.

She was asleep.

And, within minutes...

...so was I.

I awoke without opening my eyes, and, as I did, I found myself lying on my side again...

...and smiling...

...as I remembered.

And then, eyes still closed, I raised and extended my arm...

...leaned forward...

...and fell flat onto my face on the mattress.

My eyes snapped opened...

...to find the bed empty.

I checked the clock. I had been asleep less than three hours.

Where was she?

Probably peeing.

Pushing the covers off, I hurried down the hall and saw...

...the bathroom door ajar and the lights off.

Oh, no, I thought, dismayed...but then...

...as I sighed, I got a whiff of sauteed onions and mushrooms. Spencer was home and, as promised, was making cheesesteaks for dinner...

...so, of course, she'd be down in the kitchen.

But first things first.

I needed to pee.

When I pulled my panties down, I could smell the lingering aroma of my arousal...

...oh, my God...when she had been sitting between my open legs...had she been able to smell it too?

I hope not.

And, when I wiped...

...I felt the abundant amount of now-sticky residue, that had accumulated earlier, and which was still in my vulva.

Making a mental note to take a shower right after dinner, I looked down at the bathroom floor...

...and at the clothes which Sam had casually strewn across it.

After pulling my pants up, I opened the hamper, and then began picking up her discarded clothes and tossing them into it...her T-shirt...her socks...her hooded sweatshirt.

I picked up her jeans, stopping to check the pockets, and, satisfied that they were empty, I tossed them in with the other clothes...

...and, as I did...

...her red and blue sailboat motif boxers felt out of one leg.

I bent down and picked them up. They were almost as damp as the rest of her clothes.

I held them for a long time...

...debating...

...and then, blushing profusely, I looked inside...

...at the thin line of slightly whitish discharge (the normal kind) that was on the crotch.

It didn't surprise me. When girls wear boxers, I guess the center seam can give you a frontal wedgie...

...especially if you've been moving around a lot...and crouching to pick up furniture all day.

And then...

...heart pounding...

...and hoping to God that my mom wasn't looking down...

...I closed my eyes..

...and brought her boxers to my face...

...and sniffed them.

Sam smells like the sea.

A little salty.

A little tangy.

I like it.

Oh, yeah...Sam...

...and dinner.

I flung her shorts into the hamper, and hurried downstairs...

...to see Spencer setting our dinner down...

...on the kitchen table...

...which had only _two_ place settings.

"Have you seen Sam?" I asked, trying not to sound too eager, as I crossed to the sink and began to wash my hands.

"Yes...I ran into her on my way in," he replied. "I invited her to join us for dinner, but she said she had other plans."

"Oh."

Disappointed, I slid into my seat...

...but cheered up considerably when I saw the huge cheesesteak sandwich...with provolone, sauteed mushrooms, and onions...on a warm, crusty semolina baguette roll...with a side of Spencer's homemade waffle fries...that was on the table in front of me.

At least I hadn't lost my appetite...

...but, still, I rushed through dinner...

...wanting to be alone again.

I needed to think.

"I have to head right back out after we eat," Spencer announced. "The photographer just called Socko and said that he wants to re-shoot everything..._the entire collection_...but this time, he wants me to shave my legs first."

I disappeared under the table to retrieve my fork...

...which had fallen from my hand...

...when I lost my grip on it...

...at this announcement.

Once I had re-emerged, he continued, "It'll take a while, but I should be back home around midnight. Are you going to be okay, here alone, until then?"

"Of course," I assured him.

Once I had put a respectable dent in the plate of brownies Spencer served for dessert...

...I excused myself and headed back upstairs.

When I returned to my room, the first thing I noticed was her sweatshirt, which was still lying on my nightstand...

...and the note that was sitting on top of it...

...which I_ hadn't_ noticed before...

...because I had hurried out of the room to find her.

Hands trembling, I unfolded it.

_Hey, Cupcake,_

_Have to go put in a few more hours._

_I'll see you tomorrow morning around nine...yes, nine a.m., believe it or not!_

_I have the whole day off...and I can't wait to spend it with you._

_X_

I stood staring at the way she'd signed off. X...was that because she was too lazy to sign her name...

...or did it stand for something else?

A kiss?

To any _guys_ who are reading this: Girls rarely take anything a person says or does at face value...

...they always want to know '_what it means'_...

...and they often spend hours deliberating on it...

...both with their friends and when they're alone.

Fun experiment: Tell your main squeeze, 'You're the girl I never knew I wanted!' And then watch as her head implodes from the confusion!

I turned my attention back to Sam's cryptic sign-off...

...and puzzled over it for a very long time...

...while I got undressed...

...while I took a shower...

...while I dried off...

...while I put on clean clothes...

...but, to my frustration, no concrete answer presented itself...

...so I pulled on Sam's sweatshirt (which felt like getting a hug from her), slid my feet into my sneakers..and headed downstairs...

...to see Spencer putting his jacket on near the front door.

"Hey Kiddo, the kitchen's clean..._and_ I just shaved my legs, up past my knees...wanna see?" he offered, dropping one hand to his belt buckle.

"Uh...no thanks," I declined politely...

...and, with a smile and a shrug, he left.

I gave him a ten minute head start...

...and then I headed for the roof.

It was pretty dark, since the new lighting system wasn't completely installed yet, but the lit tower of the Barclay Hotel across the street cast just enough of a glow that I could see by.

I sat down on the hard concrete and rested my back against the wall...

...lost in thought...

...as I listened to the fading crescendo of sounds, as night descended over Seattle...

...the sounds that only a city can make.

Turning my face up to the darkened, still-overcast sky...I reflected on the late afternoon...and tried to sort it all out.

She was lying, voluntarily, in my arms...was it a friendly thing? What did it all mean? Could it possibly mean...that she has feelings for me? That she was hoping I'd kiss her? I don't know.

She'd given me no clues...

...and no encouragement.

I wish she could have stayed the night.

After nearly an hour of intensely-focused speculation, I realized that I still had no answers...

...and probably wouldn't be able to come up with any...

...anytime in the near future...

...so I headed back downstairs...

...and back to my bed.

I didn't bother to undress...

...just kicked off my shoes.

I didn't reach for my catalog either...

...but just lay there thinking that _she had let me hold her_...

..._she had slept in my arms_...

..._she was going to spend the entire day with me tomorrow_...

...and_ she was looking forward to it! _

Oh, Sam...I can't wait for tomorrow, I thought, with a sigh...

...as I took her sweatshirt off...

...and pulled it onto my Sam/pillow.

Wrapping my arms around it, I rolled onto my back and, hugging it to me...

...and, pretending it was Sam...

...I began to speak to it softly...

...revealing all the things that I wanted her to know...

...until sleep finally silenced me.

A/N: Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

XXXXX

Opening my left eye a fraction of an inch, I found myself lying on my right side...

...facing my alarm clock.

...at 8:37 a.m.

With a wide smile, and full of anticipation for the day ahead, I rolled over onto my back and stretched out both of my arms as widely as I could. As I lowered them, my left hand landed on...

..a denim-covered thigh.

I jumped.

She laughed.

And I shoved my sweatshirt-covered Sam/pillow the rest of the way under the covers with astonishing speed; and then rolled onto my left side, to see her, sitting with her back against the headboard.

"Good morning, Cupcake!" she said, with alarmingly-uncharacteristic cheerfulness, considering the earliness of the hour.

"H-h-how l-long have you b-been here?" I demanded, "Or am-m I hallucinating? It's only 8:37 in the m-morning!"

"8:39," she corrected me, "and you're definitely awake."

As I stared at her, still doubting that I actually was conscious...

..she scooched over to where I was lying.

Leaning down until her face was inches from mine, she took hold of my left hand and brought it up to her right cheek. "See? It's the real deal!"

I raised both my hands and messed up her hair.

"Hey!" she protested...but then she smiled at me warmly. "So, how did you sleep?"

"Okay, but more importantly, how did _you_ sleep?" I inquired, lowering my right hand from her hair to her forehead...

...which, thankfully, felt normal.

While balancing agilely on one hand and rearranging her hair with the other, she answered, "I slept like a rock...hauling all that furniture finally caught up with me. And while we're on the subject, Garth paid me for last night, and for the half-day I worked on Thursday; so everything today is on me...breakfast, lunch, both movies-"

"No!" I protested. "Just let me pay...like alw-"

"Carls...I insist! Is the Brittany Cafe okay for brunch?"

"But that place is so expensive!" I protested. "Why don't you save your mon-"

Her hand pressing gently across my mouth silenced me.

"No, Shay. End of story. Now, why don't you take a shower and get ready, while I go online and see what time the movies start?" she suggested, rolling away from me and settling back against the headboard once again.

I gave in. "Okay, if you really want to...but if you need something to tide you over until breakfast, I think I saw some Fat Cakes on the kitchen coun-"

She tore out of the room.

And I immediately yanked her sweatshirt off my pillow, and then hurried toward the bathroom.

When I returned twenty minutes later, she was back on my bed, hovering over my laptop. "Hmm...okay, _Die Herd_ starts at 11:30, and _Sheepless in Seattle_ starts at 3:30, so...brunch at 10 and lunch at 2?" she proposed.

"That sounds like a plan," I agreed.

I walked over to my dresser (while watching to confirm that her eyes were still riveted to the screen) ...

...and then...

...feeling_ way _more than a little shy...

...I took my robe off and started to get dressed...

...while sneaking occasional, furtive looks in my mirror to see if she was sneaking peeks at_ me_...

...but, if she was, I didn't catch her at it.

"Where do you want to have lunch?" I asked, deciding that it was only fair to let her pick the restaurant since she was paying.

She lifted her eyes and, to my slight disappointment, looked over at me...

...in a _strictly G-rated _sort of way...

...even though I was still only half-dressed...

...and, after thinking it over for a moment...

...she replied, "How about the Sunset Grill, over on King Street?"

"Okay," I agreed. "I love their burgers."

She nodded, and her eyes remained focused on my laptop, while I finished getting ready.

Less than five minutes later, I sat down on the bed and pulled on my boots...

...and then we put on our jackets...

...and took elevator downstairs.

As soon as we left my building, I looked up at the anchor-gray sky, an all-too-familiar sight here in Seattle; and hoped that it wasn't going to rain at all today, as we headed to the restaurant.

If I had to sum up the Brittany Cafe in three words, it would be: Overpriced Gourmet Bistro. Still, I love coming here because the food is fantastic.

It was my first visit with Sam.

After we had been shown to a table and the waiter had brought our drinks, she looked down at the menu that was lying in front of her.

"Just a reminder, Cupcake...I'm buying...so order whatever you want," she stated...

...before grabbing her glass of orange juice and draining it in one shot.

I didn't have to study the menu...

...I'd already made up my mind what I wanted: The house specialty.

It's what I always get.

The waiter returned. "Are you ready to order?"

Without speaking, Sam gestured toward me with both hands...

...and he turned in my direction.

"Eggs Benedict, please," I requested.

He made a note on his order pad. "O...kay, and you, Miss?" he asked, turning back to Sam.

"I'll have the same," she stated.

"All right then, two Eggs Ben-" he began...

...but she cut him off. "I'll also have pancakes...a broccoli/cheddar omelet...ham, bacon, _and_ sausage...and a dessert menu, please."

His eyebrows disappeared up into his hair, and he scribbled down the rest of her order.

As he headed to the kitchen, I turned to Sam. "Open forum today...what would you like to talk about? Anything at all. What's on your mind?"

She thought it over for a moment. "I was just wondering...what's Spencer currently working on? I saw a big plastic tarp on the floor, near your living room stairway; and it had some kinda huge, weird white blob with twisted wire hangers sticking out of it in every direction, sitting in the middle of it."

I smiled. "Oh, that. Well, it's eventually going to be a nine-foot tall Easter Bunny, and he's making it out of plaster, laid over a wire armature. The Seattle Gallery Mall ordered it, to display in their main atrium. He has to deliver it by next Tuesday, so that gives him another nine days to finish it."

She nodded. "What color is it going to be?"

"Uh, I think he said the mall purchasing agent requested yellow."

Her jaw dropped. "Yellow? Are they out of their minds? Won't it look like it has hepatitis?"

"Maybe," I admitted. "What color do you suggest...red?"

She didn't need to reflect on that one. "Red? Nah...too unseasonably satanic."

I laughed. "Then what color do you think it should be?"

"Well, that all depends. Do you know if he's gonna-"

Her phone rang.

She fished it out of her pocket. "Hey, what's up? He did? You did? They did? Well, yeah...no, it's not a problem. When then? Okay, what about-? We do? But then, what about...yeah, sure. Okay, fine. Talk to you later."

She hung up. "Good news, Cupcake. I just found out that-"

At that moment, the waiter brought our food...

...and Sam stared at the four plates he set down in front of her...

...completely mesmerized...

...for about two seconds...

...before grabbing her fork...

...and tearing into her breakfast.

After about three minutes of focused, rapid shoveling...

...she looked up at me. "This is fantastic! I'd heard about this place, but it's even better than I imagined. How's yours? Is everything okay?"

"Great," I answered.

She smiled broadly.

That's really what made this particular meal so memorable: Sam's wide smile. On any given day, you could generally describe her expression as 'passive' or 'stony-faced' (unless she was in a rage), but today, once the pit in her stomach had been filled somewhat, she leaned back in her chair and began to eat at an almost human pace; while watching me eat my breakfast and apparently enjoying the sight very much, since she still smiled manically.

At first, I wasn't sure of the reason for this; but, finally, I realized why: She was happy to be taking me out and paying for me...

...for the first time ever.

And then, right after we had finished our entrees...

...she completely blew my mind.

She offered to share her dessert with me!

If that's not love, what is?

And, suddenly, my insides felt as warm and gooey as the huge piece of molten lava chocolate mousse cake that sat on the table between us.

A few short minutes later, as she carefully surveyed the empty plates on the table...

...making sure she hadn't missed anything...

...I spoke up. "Sam?"

She lifted her eyes to mine. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for breakfast. I really enjoyed it."

She smiled again.

As I held my breath in anticipation, desperately hoping to hear something affectionate...

...she opened her mouth to reply...

...and our waiter approached.

And she was distracted by what was in his hand.

Sam's arm was a blur as it shot forward and grabbed the check, approx. 0.8 seconds after it had hit the table.

"Can I at least leave the tip?" I offered.

"Don't even _dream_ it!" she said ominously, digging into the right front pocket of her jeans.

While she slid some money (she wouldn't let me see how much) into the check holder...

...I got up from my chair...

...and looked out the window.

The sky was still overcast.

With a sigh, I turned...

...and to my surprise, I found Sam holding out my jacket for me.

Blushing, I turned back around and let her help me into it...

...and then...

..I leaned over toward the back of her chair...

...and grabbed _her_ jacket.

Looking slightly embarrassed, she tried to take it from me.

I wouldn't let her.

And then...

...despite her protests...

...I reached out...

...put one hand on her shoulder..

...and turned her to face away from me.

The old Warwick theater, originally built in 1917, had been spared the wrecker's ball, and new Seattle had gradually grown up around it. The building's exterior was elaborately embellished, featuring cathedral-like stonework and numerous stained glass windows; and the high ceilings of its interior had been painted in the _trompe l'oeil_ style;with each scene depicting a broad expanse of brightly-illuminated, blue sky, populated with smiling cherubs, whose strategically-bent knees tastefully hid their 'personals'. The rest of the theater's furnishings were lavishly accented with red velvet and artfully hand-carved, gilt-trimmed woodwork.

Overall, the ambiance of the place was elegant, yet intimate; since it had only three screens, unlike the twenty-four over at the Humonoplex.

The Warwick was located about six blocks from the Brittany Cafe, and just as we reached it, the skies opened...and you never saw such a downpour. As we quickly ducked under the marquee and headed for the ticket window, I felt Sam's hand grab mine as I, out of force of habit, reached for my wallet.

"_No_, Carls!"

I let her pay.

"Hey! Leave some for the other customers!" I advised...

...five minutes later, as Sam raided the concession stand (requesting, among other things, a triple dose of artery-hardening, genuine-artificial-imitation 'butter' on her Monster Bucket of popcorn).

Yuck.

Finally, thirty-two dollars later, she swept the heaping pile of candy she'd bought off the counter and into her backpack, and we walked toward the back of the building, to the sign over the entrance to _Die Herd_. Once the door had closed behind us, we were plunged into complete darkness, because the previews hadn't started yet, and for some reason, the aisle lights weren't lit. In fact, it was _so_ black that I couldn't see if there were any customers in the seats...

..._or_ even the seats themselves.

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to accustom them to the darkness, but they snapped open seconds later, when Sam took my hand...

...and led me carefully down the steeply sloping aisle. About halfway to the front, she turned to her left, entered a row and pulled me in after her and, seconds later, I sat down...

...right on her lap.

"Hey! I paid for _two_ seats...let's get our money's worth!" she reminded me.

"S-sorry," I replied, a little shook up from having sat on her.

Thankful that the theater was so dark, I hopped up, blushing profusely...

...and jumped when I felt her smack my butt.

Sam!"

She answered with a laugh...

...as I fumbled my way over into the seat next to hers.

"Popcorn?" she inquired...

...immediately shoving the bucket in my general direction in the darkness.

"No thanks," I replied...

...and settled back into my seat with a contented sigh; as I sat there in the inky blackness; happily listening to the far-off sound of muffled rain on the roof...

...and the nearby sound of enthusiastic munching and crunching coming from over on my left...

...until, maybe two minutes later, the screen lit up; subjecting us to the usual, boring warnings about fire exits...

...and about littering...

...and about cell phone use...

...ad nauseum.

By the flickering glow of the screen, I saw Sam set her nearly-empty popcorn bucket onto the seat to the left of her own.

Which reminds me: Whoever designed the Warwick did a fantastic job...

...except for the seats! The armrests are completely impractical. Even though there are two separate armrests side by side between each chair, they can only accommodate _one_ arm at a time.

Anyway, since the ones on either side of me were both vacant, I settled both of my arms onto them.

Seconds later...

...Sam promptly and unceremoniously knocked my left one off...

...and her right arm took its place.

The nerve!

I was there first!

There was only one thing to do.

Without hesitation, I purposefully shoved her arm off, and settled my own arm back where it had been originally...

...but, less than five seconds later...

...it was back in my lap...

...where it had landed it when she'd pushed it off again...

...and her own arm was now back on the armrest...

..but not for long.

I flung it back at her and returned my arm to its rightful place...

...which it soon left again...

...possibly forever...

...since her own arm moved back, rapidly displacing mine...

...and her right hand clamped, with a death-grip, onto the front edge of the armrest...

...successfully resisting all my further attempts to move it...

...and, believe me, I did try!

Repeatedly!

Finally, with a sigh, I gave up.

And less than ten seconds later...

...her right hand was in my lap...

...searching determinedly...

...until she found my left wrist...

...and, taking hold of it...

...she gently lifted my arm...

...returning it to the armrest...

...and then, after giving my hand a squeeze...

...she left it there...

...and her hand returned to her own lap.

Once I had gotten over my confusion, and had successfully repressed the urge to smack her hand, hard, for being such a 'wise guy'...

..I toyed with the idea of pulling her arm back over onto the arm rest, and the two of us _sharing_ it...

...which would give me the perfect excuse to hold her hand...

...but then I noticed that it was now holding the popcorn bucket...

...which was just as well...

...since I had no idea what she'd think of the idea...

...or how she'd react.

Anyway, the previews were starting.

I couldn't believe the first one...it was for the sequel to the movie we were about to watch (they'd wasted no time(!) _Girly Cow: Udder Chaos! _The trailer was kind of vague, but considering the scene with Girly Cow pole dancing in a strip club and the patrons stuffing dollar bills into her collar while ogling her uh, 'assets', it seemed to be very racy...

...even though it was rated 'G'.

The next trailer advertised an obviously-low budget rip-off, starring troubled, thieving, drugging, slutty, debauched, out-of-control psycho/celebrity, Lynn Z. Lowen, who was, apparently, desperately trying to revive her one-foot-in-the-grave-and-the-other-foot-on-a-banana-peel acting career. The title was _Star Whores,_ and in it, Lynn Z. plays a hooker from outer space.

No thanks.

The next one was a sequel to the Academic Award-winning movie _The King Speaks_ and was titled, _Stutter Island: George VII vacations on Malta._

This was followed by _Joan of Narc_ (hallucinatory drugs)...

...which was followed by _Saving Ryan's Privates_ (don't ask)...

...and finally, a surreal, futuristic flick about alien-enforced population control: _Sperminator_.

I hope the Humungoplex reopens soon!

For the record, I was far from impressed with _Die Herd_, mainly because the entire movie was so incredibly violent...

...so of course Sam loved it.

Anyway, the best thing about watching a movie with Sam is that afterward we always review it in detail over lunch or dinner.

Two hours later, it was still pouring as we emerged from the theater, and, since neither of us had thought to bring an umbrella, we decided to skip walking six blocks to King Street's Sunset Grill. After a short consultation, we settled on pizza at Marioni's, which was just around the corner.

Thirty minutes later, after we had been shown to a table near the street and our food had arrived, I sat facing the window; dividing my time between eating and mopping pizza sauce off Sam's chin.

"Sho, whuddja thingk ob da moobie?" she asked, around a mouthful of _Meatball Marinara Mushroom Mozzarella Mash-up._

I set my fork down. "Honestly?"

She nodded vigorously. "Yesh. Pershunmalry, I lubbed idd...amd can'd oooayte por duh sheekwul."

I took a deep breath. "Well, to tell you the truth, I thought it was rather...violent for a children's movie."

She took a long slurp of her lemonade while she pondered this...

...but then she shook her head. "Aw, kids see violence ten times worse than this on the news! All those terrorists and serial killers running around! If ZNN can show that junk, then _we_ can have blood and guts in movies...where it's seriously needed for entertainment value!"

I pushed my empty plate to one side and rested my elbows on the table. "But, Sam, don't you think that Girly Cow joining a street gang sends the wrong message to kids?"

She looked back up from her pizza. "It wasn't her fault! She was forced to join! All she was doing was hailing a cab, but the Cud members thought she was flashing the secret Cud hoof signal, and that she already was one of them!"

"Well, yeah," I admitted, "but when they found out that she wasn't a member, they...uh...don't you think that her initiation into the gang was kind of...extreme?"

She stared at me in disbelief. "Not at all! If she hadn't joined, they would have killed her! When they took her back to their hideout, and she heard them planning their attack on the Cripps, they made her choose between joining and death. Let's face it, Carls...she already knew too much!"

She paused for a moment to reflect. "But then again, if_ I _was sprayed from head to hoof with barbeque sauce, and then was forced to sit in a sauna for twelve hours, I'd probably crack too."

I nodded sagely. "Also, I thought that the steak house's 'bloodbath scene' at the end was a bit much."

"No, it wasn't!" she protested. "Don't you see, Carls; it was essential to the plot. If the rest of the Cuds hadn't been blown away, all twenty-seven of them, then she never would have been able to leave the gang...remember what they told her after her initiation: You're a Cud until you die!"

I decided to let her have the last word, mainly because I didn't want to take all the spark out of her debating abilities. I wanted her to be just as eager to discuss _Sheepless in Seattle _later this afternoon, since I was hoping that it would present an opportunity to gain some insight as to how she felt about gays...

...and, possibly, about me.

She lowered her gaze to the bowl of chocolate ice cream the waitress had just set on the table, and I looked past her, out the window...

...watching the pouring rain...

...wishing that we were back at my place...

...in my bed...

...under the covers.

Twenty minutes later, we had finished dessert, and, after I'd cleaned her up one last time, she paid...

...and then we ran around the corner, and back into the theater.

Even though the movie was a real tearjerker, I managed (with considerable effort) to keep my own emotions under control; not wanting to give anything away before I'd had a chance to hear Sam's perspective on it.

Two hours later, when the movie ended, it was still pouring(!), so we ran for cover over to the Canterbury Tea Shoppe, which was four doors down from The Warwick.

Once we had settled into a cozy table for two in the back corner, and had ordered hot chocolate and a heaping plate of Madeleines, I looked across at Sam, hoping she would start the ball rolling.

She didn't...

...so I sat in silence, contemplating the best way to begin our discussion.

Finally, I decided to be very businesslike in my observations, until I got a clue from her how she felt about the movie.

"Well," I began, "that certainly was, um...interesting."

She nodded.

"Uh, they included a lot of Seattle landmarks in the film," I continued.

"Yeah, even the Space Needle," she agreed.

"The musical score wasn't bad either," I added.

"Uh-huh."

Oh No! She's not contributing her fair share! This is gonna be brutal!

Trembling with apprehension, I continued. "So, the storyline was...pretty good."

"Yeah, it was," she agreed...

...and I breathed a bit easier. "What did you think of the mountain residents forcing Jake and Dennis to flee to the city?"

She paused for a moment. "You know...some people are just assholes," she stated flatly.

"Well, at least the people of Seattle didn't give them a hard time," I ventured.

She nodded. "That's true, but do you think it's because they didn't know Jake and Dennis were gay?"

I was stumped.

"You know, they weren't at all 'out'," she added.

"Yes," I admitted, "they weren't.

She leaned back in her chair, looking thoughtful. "I don't know how their neighbors would have reacted if they'd known about it."

I wrestled with my voice to keep it even as I replied, "Yeah, I guess some people stay in the closet all their lives...trying to hide from the hatred."

She nodded.

I flattened my palms against the tabletop in an effort to steady myself as I asked, "Sam, how do you think you'd react if you were in that situati-"

At that moment, her eyes left mine and looked past my shoulder...

...and latched onto the waiter, who was bringing our food.

For the next fifteen minutes, conversation was impossible...

...because Sam was too busy chewing...

...but, finally, she looked up from our nearly-empty plate and back into my eyes.

"Now, where were we?

Not looking at her directly, I answered, "Uh, I thought those two were going to live happily ever after...until Jake got thrown into jail."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I think he did that deliberately, Carls."

"You do?" I asked in surprise.

"Well, yeah. The guy was such a ho-bag...and Dennis wasn't putting out very often...so I say that Jake robbed that liquor store _wanting_ to get caught."

I paused. I hadn't considered this possibility. "Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yeah, why else would he be wearing a T-shirt with his _full name _on it? He obviously was looking forward to the uh...social networking that happens in prison showers!"

"I...don't know, Sam," I said slowly. "I think he really_ loved _Dennis."

"Of course he did...Dennis just wasn't fulfilling his...you know, his...physical needs," she replied.

"So, are you saying that things could have worked out for them if every night had been like that...that one love scene that they had?"

She shrugged. "Maybe."

"Did you hear all the rude remarks the other people in the audience were making during it? How immature!"

She averted her eyes and nodded.

Heart pounding, I reached down and grabbed the edges of my chair...bracing myself. "So, did you think that their love scene was-"

The waiter approached our table with the check.

Damn!

"...really sad when he died in prison!" I finished loudly...

...not wanting him to know what we'd been discussing.

Sam gave a philosophical shrug. "Nah, he had it coming; anyone who eats green baloney deserves what he gets."

Completely bummed out that I'd been thwarted twice in my attempts to get any solid insight(s) from her, and too busy trying to figure out my next move, I let her pay without putting up an argument.

When we emerged, the sky was still overcast but, mercifully, the rain had stopped. I walked over to the edge of the curb...

...and looked down...

...into the badly-flooded gutter...

...to see that water was actually spilling up over the edge of the curb and onto the sidewalk...

...all the way down the street...

...in both directions.

Great.

"Sam, can you believe how much it rai-" I began, turning to my left.

She wasn't standing there.

Looking around me, I spotted her fifteen feet away, staring into the window of _The Paper Chase_, a card store located right next door to the Canterbury. I walked over, stood beside her, and followed her line of vision; but I couldn't figure out what she was looking at; since she didn't really seem to be looking directly at the window display, but, rather, past it.

She turned to me. "Wait here, Carls. I'll be right out."

Before I could ask_ why_, she had disappeared inside; so I looked through the window, trying to see what she was up to, but a huge display rack between her and the register made that impossible.

Less than five minutes later, she emerged, hiding something behind her back and, after a moment's hesitation, she held out a small, aqua-colored gift bag; with pink-and-white striped tissue paper sticking out of the top. "Don't open it until we get home," she advised.

I reached forward and took it from her outstretched hand. "What is this?"

She looked away, shrugged, and smiled. "Not much...Just a little memento...you know, a reminder of the day."

"But...I didn't get you anything-" I began.

She shot me a look. "Carls...you've given me _so_ much. You always do."

Aw.

Not trusting myself to give a non-emotional response at that moment, I carefully put the bag inside my backpack; and then we approached the badly-flooded curb, and looked down at the water rushing past us.

Since we were on a side street, I put my hand on her arm and led her around the corner...

...hoping that there was better drainage on the main street...

...but, unfortunately, it was just as flooded, and, even worse, there wasn't a single taxi in sight.

I looked down at my feet. What a day to wear my new suede boots! They were definitely about to be ruined.

I turned to Sam.

She looked down at them and then back up at me. "Don't worry, Carls," she announced, reading my mind. "I have a plan!"

Before I could ask what that might be...

...and if it included the possibly (or probability) of jail time (as many of her plans do), she took my hand and led me over to a bench near the bus stop.

"Climb up," she directed.

"Huh?"

"Just do it...like this," she instructed, and then demonstrated, climbing onto the bench and standing on it.

I followed her up onto the bench...

...and, moments later, we both were sitting with our butts on the top edge of the back rest...

...and our feet on the seat.

Without a word, Sam reached down, pulled off her sneakers and socks, and stuffed them into her backpack...

...and then, she rolled up the bottoms of her jeans to just below her knees.

Hopping back down onto the sidewalk, she turned to face me. "Carls, stand up."

Despite my confusion, I did as she requested.

She nodded her approval. "Okay. Now, what I want you to do is to jump up, and wrap your arms around my shoulders, and your legs around my waist."

"What?" I asked, incredulous...

...but, before I could argue, her hands shot out and grabbed the backs of my thighs, just above my knees, and before I knew what was happening, she had pulled me forward, _off the bench._

My arms and legs flailing wildly, I managed to grab onto her...

...and, once I had completely wrapped my body around hers, I looked, in shock, down into her smiling face.

"Perfect. Now just hang onto me," she directed, as she shifted her hands to my butt, and clasped them together under it.

And then, before I could protest...

...she had walked back over to the edge of the curb...

...and stepped down into the flooded gutter.

Pressing my chest up against hers, I moved my chin past her left shoulder, and then looked downward. The water level was way up above her ankles, but she appeared oblivious to it as she carried me across the street...

...with surprising gracefulness, considering that I'm taller than she is.

With my arms securely around her neck, I looked around nervously. There were very few people 'out and about', and all of them seemed completely preoccupied with getting their own asses across the rivers of water, so no one was looking at us.

Due to the lack of traffic, I wasn't really concerned about us being hit, and also, I wasn't worried about her cutting her feet on broken glass, etc., since the street cleaners do a pretty good job.

Once we were back up on the other curb, she stopped walking, and as I was contemplating the best way to dismount, I heard, "Hey."

And I looked down into her eyes. "Cupcake, this is more fun than I've had in a long time. Thanks for coming with me today."

"You're welcome," I replied shyly.

Looking down at the ground, to make sure we were back on dry land, I moved my hands to her shoulders.

"Hey," she said again.

As I stopped, and looked back down into her eyes...

...she shook her head...

...and then looked at me in a way that made further words completely unnecessary.

And, with a shy smile, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders again...

...and held on tightly...

...and, even though we were still four blocks from Kennedy Plaza...

...she carried me the rest of the way home.

Two blocks later, she asked, "Whatcha thinking about?"

I shook my head.

"Come on...tell me!" she insisted. "Are you worried that I'm going to drop you?"

"No, nothing like that," I assured her.

"Well, what then?"

"I was just trying to figure out how I can possibly thank you for today...I had such a great time!"

I waited in silence, but instead of offering suggestions, I felt her hands tighten against my butt, as she leaned forward and rested her cheek against my shoulder.

Was that a hug?

"Uh, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you stay over tonight?"

I felt her shake her head against my shoulder.

"Come on, Sam..._please? _You haven't...for such a long time!"

"Sorry, I can't," she insisted, and I _did_ hear genuine regret in her voice. "Gotta work this evening."

"But...you said that you had the entire day off!" I reminded her.

"Yeah, the entire _day_...but not the night. Some other time, okay?"

When I didn't respond she pulled back and looked into my eyes. "Okay, Carls?"

Disappointed, I rested my cheek on her right shoulder and nodded.

She stopped for a minute and checked for oncoming traffic, and then she stepped down into the street again.

As we crossed it, I remained silent.

She noticed.

Stepping up onto the opposite curb she said, "Come on, Kid, it's not that bad. Remember when my phone rang during lunch? It was Garth. He told me that, after tonight, I'll be off until Friday evening."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Nothing 'happened'. Since Garth doesn't have a key to the building, we can only work when the landlord is there; and tomorrow he has to go to a funeral out of state. He won't be back until the weekend, so...if you want me to stay over-"

"Yes!" I replied...

...entirely too loudly, quickly, and eagerly.

She came to a standstill...

...but only for a moment. "All right," she agreed, "when do you-?"

"Tomorrow night?"

"Okay, Carls. Tomorrow night."

And I hugged her happily...

...with both my arms and my legs.

"And I'll see you at school tomorrow," she added.

I nodded.

As we approached the front entrance, I looked through the glass doors into the lobby and groaned. "Oh, no."

She pulled back and looked at me. "What's wrong?"

"Lewbert's at the front desk, instead of asleep in the back room where he belongs! You know he hates my guts...so he's the last person I want to see right now."

She laughed. "The last _'person'_? Come on, you know he doesn't count as human."

"Really, Sam? How do you know?"

Stopping near the front doors, she set me on my feet...

...and looked into my eyes. "Because, Carls...how could anyone _not_ love _you_?"

And then...

...before I could recover from my shock at what she'd just said...

...let alone come up with any kind of reply...

...she was gone.

It was nearly five minutes before I realized that I was still standing in front of the building.

Seconds later, I tore past Lewbert...

...ignoring his screams that I was wearing too much '_Lily of the Alley'_ cologne...

...and hurtled into the elevator.

Spencer wasn't home, but I caught a glimpse of his now-half-completed plaster bunny out of the corner of my eye as I made a beeline for my room.

Not bothering to shut the door, I dived onto my bed and immediately opened my backpack. I eagerly pulled out the gift bag; and then, my heart pounding with anticipation, I reached inside it and pulled out a heavy, cube-shaped gold box. I turned it over, examining it carefully on all sides, but there was no wording on it, and absolutely no clue as to what was inside.

Hands trembling slightly...

...I opened the lid...

...and smiled as I pulled out the oversized, white porcelain mug...

...which was decorated on the outside with a huge cupcake; topped with pink icing, and covered with a scattering of tiny, heart-shaped sprinkles. On top of the cupcake was a large capital letter 'C'.

'C' for 'Cupcake'? 'C' for 'Carly'?

Same thing.

I love it!

But...what does it _mean?_

Determined to figure it out, I spent the next twenty minutes reviewing the entire day in minute detail...

...carefully considering every look, every gesture, and every word of Sam's...

...from the time I'd woken up next to her...

...to the moment that she'd walked away...

...but I only ended up with far more questions than I'd had at the beginning...

...and with no answers whatsoever.

There was only one thing to do.

I crossed the room and sat down at my desk.

_March 24th_,

_Dear Mom,_

_I'll bet you're surprised to hear from me again so soon, but I had to write._

_I just spent a fantastic day with Sam, but I'm still no closer to any answers. I still don't know how she really feels about me._

_On one hand, she took me out and paid for everything...she carried me home in her arms...she bought me a really thoughtful gift...she practically told me that she loves me (in a roundabout sort of way)...but I really don't know what to think. Does she actually have feelings for me...or am I reading too much into this? _

_Anyway, she's staying over tomorrow and I'm so looking forward to it! The last time she was here, she actually slept in my arms for a little while...and it was so nice! Mom, I love her...so much! Tomorrow night, I'm going to lie really close to her, and maybe she'll let me hold her ag-_

"Kiddo, I'm home!" Spencer yelled up the stairwell.

"Oh, hey, Spence," I called back.

"Uh, can you come down here?" he asked. "I need to talk to you."

"I'm uh, kind of in the middle of something right now," I replied.

"Please, it's really important, and it'll just take a minute," he insisted.

With a sigh, I set my pen down and headed to the living room.

One look at Spencer's face informed me that all was _not_ well.

"Spencer? What is it?"

Instead of giving me a direct answer, he looked down and bit his lip.

"Tell me! What's going on? Is something wrong?" I demanded, my heart giving a lurch.

He opened his mouth to answer...

...but no sound came out.

And then, turning on his heel, he walked into the kitchen and opened the top left-hand cabinet.

He reached inside...

...and then...

..._he pulled them out_...

...and my heart plummeted. "Spencer..._NO!"_

"Sorry, Carly, I would have told you sooner, but I just found out myself."

I stared down, in horror, at the pair of hideous candlesticks that had been a Christmas gift, four years ago...

...from our grandad...

...and which were so unbearably-atrocious looking that we only brought them out when he visited.

I pulled myself together as best I could and took a deep breath. "When is he coming, and for how long?" I asked...

...prepared to be reasonable about the whole thing...

...and hoping that we'd only have to endure his company for one evening.

Spencer looked down at his feet again.

Oh no. Not a good sign.

"Spencer?"

He lifted his gaze to mine. "He just called...and said he'll get here around noon time tomorrow...and that he's leaving Friday morning," he replied, setting the candlesticks in the center of our kitchen table.

I walked numbly into the living room and fell back onto the couch. Hunching over, with my elbows on my knees, I closed my eyes. "Not this week...not this week...not this week...not this wee-"

"He'll be staying up in Dad's room, so please put clean sheets on the bed."

"Not this week...not this week...not this-"

"And tomorrow evening, he's taking us to dinner at-"

"Not this week...not this week...not-"

"Carly?"

I stopped my futile chanting and looked up to see Spencer standing in front of me. "Huh?"

"Come on, Kiddo...you know he loves you."

"I love him too," I replied. "He's always been very generous, and I know that he wants what's best for both of us. It's just that...his views are positively...Victorian!"

"I know," he sighed.

"Plus, I had big plans for this week," I added.

"Can't you reschedule?" he asked.

"I'm going to_ have_ to," I answered dejectedly...

...realizing that it was the last thing in the world I wanted to do.

"Don't worry, it's only for a few days," he said encouragingly.

I wasn't encouraged.

With a resigned sigh, I nodded and got up off the couch. Dragging my feet, I went upstairs and set up my dad's bed, and put clean a stack of clean towels in the bathroom.

And then, heart sinking, I returned to my own room and picked up the phone.

Sam didn't answer so, while pacing back and forth nervously, I left the following message: "Hi, it's me and, unfortunately, I have some bad news. I just found out that my grandad is going to be visiting and staying here at my place, Monday afternoon though Friday morning. I'm really, really sorry. You know I was looking forward to having you stay over. Anyway, I promise that I'll make it up to you...and soon."

I hesitated.

There were so many other things I wanted to tell her at that moment.

But, as usual, I chickened out.

So I finished by saying, "I'll see you in school tomorrow. Bye."

I hung up and stared at my phone in regret. But there had been no alternative. Apart from the time we'd spend together at school, I'd have to completely exclude Sam from my life for the next four days.

My grandad can't stand her.

He doesn't even call her by name, just refers to her as 'that hooligan', and says that he can't understand why I'd want to be anywhere near her. He also frequently throws out dark hints that she's destined to spend most of her adult life behind bars.

Slumping back down in my desk chair, I stared at the half-finished letter in front of me, for what seemed forever. Finally, despite no longer being inspired, I picked up my pen again.

_Bad news, Mom, I just found out that Grandad Shay is coming to stay for most of the coming week; so I had to put my plans with Sam on hold. I'm so disappointed! _

_But, even worse than my disappointment is my confusion._

_Sometimes it seems so obvious that she loves me...but then it seems that she does what she does because she's just trying to be friendly. It's so hard to figure this out...and to decide what, if anything, I should do about it._

_I really wish you were here! _

_Mom, I think about you all the time..._

_...and I Love You Forever,_

_Carly_

Getting up from the desk, I checked my pockets to make sure I had matches...

...and then I headed for the roof.

A/N: Please review

(By the way, if you're shy, anonymous reviews are also welcome!)


	3. Chapter 3

XXXXX

Have I mentioned that I HATE alarm clocks?

Seven a.m. arrived all too soon, and with effort I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom.

Needless to say, I hadn't slept well. The combination of dreading my grandad's impending visit and the knowledge that I wasn't going to have any quality time with Sam, for at least the rest of the week, had been the cause of my insomnia.

And now, I had a full day ahead of me.

And school was the last place I wanted to be.

I turned the shower on full blast, but the water pounding on my shoulders and scalp didn't wake me up in the slightest as I stood under it, attempting to sort out my options...

...only to realize that I didn't have any.

Bummer.

Grandad's visit wouldn't be so trying if Sam could be here...but that was now out of the question. He had originally liked her...but I guess that's because he didn't know her very well (he visits us very infrequently). Anyway, he seemed to get along fine with her, until about two years ago.

She had joined us for dinner, during one of his visits, and the following exchange took place:

Grandad: "So tell me, Sam, what does your father do?"

Sam: "Time."

It was all downhill from there.

Grandad's friend has a son who works for the Seattle Police Department; and at Grandad's request, he did some research, and promptly informed Grandad (in detail) of the sordid goings-on at the Puckett apartment; as well as all of Sam's uh...'misadventures' with the law.

And one day Grandad called from out of the blue and asked me if it was the same Sam Puckett.

And I had admitted it...

...and then listened to him rant, for nearly an hour, about the dangers of 'getting into bad company'.

But at least he didn't totally forbid me to hang out with her.

Back to the present.

I finished showering, and then managed to get dressed and eat breakfast; but it was all done on autopilot.

Fortunately, Grandad and Spencer were still asleep so I had the kitchen to myself. Still, I sat dawdling over my cereal and toast, trying once again to clear my head (I failed)...

...and then, dragging my feet, I headed to school.

As I walked into the hallway that led to my homeroom, the first sight to meet my eyes was Sam...

...who had a death grip on the front of Mike Henderson's shirt...

...with both fists...

...and was body-slamming him...hard...up against a row of lockers...

...repeatedly.

And suddenly, my adrenaline kicked into high gear.

Rushing up behind her, I grabbed her right fist, which was now cocked way back over her shoulder.

"Sam! How many times do I have to tell you that it's not lady-like to fight!"

Without so much as a backward glance, she yelled, "He started it! He hit me back first!"

Gasping loudly, I shrieked, "Mr. Howard! It's not what it looks like!"

One hand still on Mike's shirt, Sam spun around...

...and scanned the hall frantically, before finally clamping her eyes onto mine. "Where's is he? Where's Howard?" she demanded.

"Now that I have your attention," I replied calmly.

She stared at me in confusion...

...but unfortunately (for her), she caught on too late...

...and before she could properly defend herself...

...I shot her _'The Look'_...

...and she let Mike go...

...instantly.

Without a moment's hesitation, he tore down the hall.

"Foul, Shay! That was way outta line!" she shouted, in a tone of voice that can only be described as 'righteous indignation'.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," I retorted, while staring at Mike's rapidly-retreating back. "And I'm not going to ask for _your_ side of the story, because I didn't get his."

She opened her mouth, but before she could begin what I'm sure would have been a long, defensive rant...

...I grabbed her arm and hauled her toward our first class, which was _English_ with Briggs.

This was followed by_ Algebra _with Howard...

...and, to complete the morning's Triumvirate of Trolls:_ History _with Buttburn.

Three hours later, we found ourselves...hungry and harried...in the cafeteria lunch line, packed in like sardines (as usual); but as much as I loved the feeling of Sam's breasts pressed tightly against my back, I tried not to focus too closely on that.

I didn't need to deal with wet panties for the rest of the day.

Instead, I reached into my right jeans pocket and pulled out one of the two neatly-folded five-dollar bills that I'd put there before leaving the house that morning. Considering how generous Sam had been during yesterday's outing, I suspected (correctly) that she was now broke. Without looking, I moved my hand backward, and expertly pressed the money into the center of her right palm, with a precision that was the result of years of practice. Moments later, she gave my hand a squeeze.

I smiled.

I knew Sam would be out of work for most of the week, so she wouldn't get much of a paycheck this Saturday. Besides, she never really had any money anyway, and her mom never thought to send her to school with lunch...

...but I also knew that she'd be extremely embarrassed if anyone saw me buying her lunch _for_ her...

...so day after day, we repeated this scenario.

"Thanks, Cupcake," she whispered in my ear.

The line (finally) started to move, and as I took two steps forward, I realized that my back was no longer in contact with Sam's chest...

...but, before I had a chance to mourn the loss, Scott Jefferies and Mike Henderson, both of whom were standing directly ahead of me in line, got into an argument, and Scott did a shove number on Mike...

...who bumped into me...

...sending me flying backward...

...right into Sam.

Fortunately, due to her excellent reflexes, she wrapped her arms around me, and managed to steady me before I hit the floor. Then, while still holding me, she looked past my shoulder and yelled, "Hey! Jerk-wads! Knock it off! There are _girls_ in this line!"

Mike stared directly past me, and straight at her. "Really, Puckett? I don't see a girl."

"Oh yeah, Mike? I realize that you're an expert on girls...because you'll never be half the man your mother was!"

"Sam...let it go," I advised.

She ignored me.

"You look like you fell out of the 'ugly tree'...and hit every single branch on the way down!" she continued.

Mike flipped her off. "Oh, yeah? Well, the best part of _you_ ran down your father's leg! But I'm not sure _which _father, Puckett...you must have a thousand."

She let go of me and attempted to take a step forward (I blocked her). "Shut the hell up!" she yelled. "Or would you rather I finish what I started with you this morning?"

"Bring it on, Fuckett!" he shot back.

Red-faced and furious, she looked around wildly...

...but there were way too many witnesses...

...so she decided (wisely) to keep it verbal. "Save your breath, Henderson...you'll need it to blow up your date!"

I'm not sure what his next remark was...it was drowned out by the roar of laughter which surrounded us on all sides.

And apparently, Sam didn't consider the matter to be concluded yet, because she added, "Also, I heard that when you were a kid your parents couldn't let you play in the sandbox...because cats would jump in and bury you!"

"Sam!" I gasped.

She opened her mouth to reply but then we both spotted Briggs crossing the cafeteria, toward us.

Mike quickly turned around and faced forward in line.

Sam shut up momentarily...

...until Briggs changed directions, apparently needing to investigate an even worse disturbance coming from some other area of the cafeteria.

As I watched her walk off I said, "Let it go, Sam...you're already in enough trouble for one day."

"But I don't wan-" she began.

I turned back around...

...and she immediately flung her hands up in front of her face...

...thinking that she was about to be subjected to _'The Look'_ again.

But I had already decided to use a different strategy.

...so instead, I gently took hold of her wrists and lowered her arms. Looking directly into her eyes I said, "I'm really, really sorry about this week."

She stared murderously past my shoulder at Mike, but he was no longer looking at her. "It's okay, Carls," she replied, in a very off-handed way.

I stepped to the side, blocking her view of him and forcing her to look at me instead. "It's_ not_ okay," I answered quietly. I'm_ really_ disappointed."

I waited in silence for her to say the same...to say that she missed me...to say anything affectionate...

...but she didn't.

Instead, she shrugged and then asked, "So, what's in the steam table today?"

Now even _more_ disappointed, I turned back around and craned my neck. "Well...from here it looks like a choice between barf-equed chicken and _Cycle 3 _dog food."

"Hmm...I'll take my chances on the chicken," she remarked.

I spent the rest of lunch trying to figure out what to say to her next, but I couldn't come up with anything relevant. Should I try to induce her to admit that she missed me? No. Bad idea. It was highly unlikely that she'd admit something like that, especially at a lunch table, in front of twenty other kids.

The rest of the afternoon dragged on cruelly...

...as I spent my last three classes contemplating four long, Grandad-filled, Sam-less days...

...but by the end of my last class, I had at least come up with a plan to minimize the agony of his visit.

Before the last bell had finished ringing...

...Sam (as usual) tore out of the classroom and ran straight for the nearest exit...

...yelling, "Outta my way!" as she swung her backpack fiercely from side to side...

...and scattered the crowd in front of her in all directions...

...but, just as she was about to set foot outside the building...

... I grabbed her arm.

Ignoring her howls of protest, I steered her back down the hall and into the school library.

"Hey! Let me go! I'm entitle to time off for good behavi-"

Not slowing my pace, I shot her an incredulous look. "_Good _behavior?"

"Okay, okay! Far from good!" she conceded. "Still, I can't wait to get out of this God-forsaken hell-hole and back out into the real worl-"

"Later," I cut her off. "I need your help!" Dragging her over to the library's 'History' section, I started grabbing random books...the biggest ones I could find...not even bothering to glance at the titles.

"Here, help me carry these," I directed, holding several out to her.

She stared at me, open-mouthed. "Have you lost your mind? What _is_ all this?"

"It's the perfect excuse to justify spending limited time with my grandad during the next four days," I replied.

She still didn't get it. "What do you mean?"

"Don't you see? He's going to insist that I spend most of my time studying, rather than hanging out with him, when I show him these...and tell him about that big exam we're going to have."

"What big exam?" she asked.

"The one that's coming up on Friday," I replied.

Her jaw dropped. "You mean...the school nurse checking us for head lice?"

"That's the one," I confirmed with a smile.

She rolled her eyes.

"Hey, it's _still_ an _exam_...so it's sorta/kinda true!" I insisted, dragging her over to the check-out desk.

With difficulty, I managed to jam all nine books into my backpack, and then we stepped outside and into another gloomy, overcast afternoon.

Perfect.

It would be a complete waste to have lovely weather today, since I was going to be stuck inside my apartment anyway.

Less than five minutes later, as we walked home through the dense, damp, swirling, mist that blanketed Meridian Park...

...she looked over at me, watching as I staggered along under weight of my backpack...

...and then, to my immense relief, she took it from me and hoisted it onto her shoulders; on top of her own.

I looked at her gratefully. "Thanks."

Without acknowledging my remark, she continued to look straight ahead, squinting to see where we were going (since visibility was so poor); and asked, "Carls, since I'm off for the rest of the day, do you wanna hang out for a while?"

"I can't," I replied with a sigh. "According to Spencer, Grandad's supposed to have something planned for this evening."

"Oh." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Anyway, I'm thrilled we're only gonna have a half day of school this Friday, thanks to that stupid teachers' conference."

I came to a complete stop.

I had forgotten all about it.

But what a perfect chance to spend time with Sam! She had that afternoon off from work, and Grandad would be headed back to Yakima that morning.

I did some fast thinking. "Sam, I was planning to have lunch at _Zang Bang's_ Chinese restaurant on Friday," I lied...

...feeling guilty that I didn't feel guilty about lying.

The moment I mentioned food, I had her complete and rapt attention. "Are you going...by yourself?"

"Yeah...uh, no...uh...would you like to come with me?" I asked, hoping that I didn't sound too overly-eager.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yes! My treat."

"Sure, Carls," she replied enthusiastically. "I've heard that the food there is incredible."

"Okay then, Friday for sure...right after school lets out," I said, deliberately trying to hide my euphoric elation behind a facade of non-chalance.

We had arrived at the park's 50th St. Avenue entrance, which was where we'd have to part. As I stood contemplating that sad fact, I heard...

..."Hey, Kid?"

I looked over at her.

"Chin up," she said with a warm smile...

...as she handed me my backpack...

...and then, without another word...

...she turned and walked away...

...and I stood watching with an aching heart...

...until she had disappeared from sight into the dense, misty haze.

Fifteen minutes later, I found myself standing outside my front door.

Reluctant but resigned, I took a deep breath and then, with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I slowly unlocked it.

Spencer was nowhere in sight, but Grandad was sitting on the couch reading. As soon as he saw me, he tossed his magazine aside and walked over to the coat tree where I was hanging my jacket. I turned and hugged him.

"There she is!" he exclaimed. "How's my Carly?"

"Hi, Grandad!" I replied (completely sidestepping that question, because he most certainly wouldn't like the answer). "How was the drive up?"

"Not bad...after nine a.m. there usually isn't much traffic," he replied pleasantly. But then he frowned and looked past me, out into the hall. "Is _that hooligan_ with you?"

"No. She uh, had something else to do this afternoon."

"Hmm...probably knocking over a liquor store right about now," he remarked.

Eager to change the subject, I asked, "Is Spencer here?"

"He had to run down to the art supply store, but should be back any minute," he replied, glancing at his watch.

At the mention of art supplies, I looked across the living room, over at Spencer's work-in-progress.

It was coming along nicely.

Grandad followed me as I hauled my backpack over to the coffee table in front of the couch and set it down...

...loudly.

"What do you have in there...an anvil?" he asked.

Without a word, I unzipped it, and the instant he saw all my library books, he stated, "That's a lot of homework. You'd better get started on it."

"But we haven't had a chance to catch up yet," I 'argued'.

"No, Carly...nothing's more important than your studies," he reminded me (for the 4,387th time).

"A-w-w-w, but Grandad! I'd_ much_ rather hang out with _you!_" I 'protested'.

He shook his head. "To your room right now, young lady. We'll have time to talk over dinner. Our reservations are for seven, so that gives you about an hour to hit the books before you need to start getting ready."

Flashing what I hoped was a reasonably-convincing expression of extreme disappointment, I grabbed my backpack and schlepped it upstairs.

Closing my bedroom door behind me, I immediately pulled out my phone...

...because I had no intention whatsoever of studying.

I checked my watch. Yep, she'd definitely be off her butt/couch and out of the apartment by now.

Which was exactly what I wanted.

I dialed the number.

From the cacophony of noise in the background, which included what sounded like glass breaking (loudly), and one or more bodies falling (being thrown(?) to the floor, I surmised (correctly) that she was at O'Gradys.

She picked it up on the fourth ring. "Yeah?"

"Hello, Mrs. Puckett?"

"Yeah?"

"It's Carly."

"Oh, hi!" she answered, relatively pleasantly (for her). "Did Sam's phone get turned off again? Because I'm not at home right now."

"You're not?" I replied, trying to sound genuinely surprised. "Well, that's okay actually, because I'm not calling _for_ her. I'm calling _about _her."

No response. She seemed to be waiting for an explanation.

"You see," I began, "since Sam's birthday is coming up..._on April 17__th_...I was wondering if she's thrown out any hints as to what she'd like as a gift."

"No. Not really," she answered...

...sounding only marginally interested in the subject.

Uh-oh.

"I'm really not sure what to get her yet," I continued, "but since it's..._on April 17__th_...that still gives me a couple of weeks to decide."

"Yeah. I guess so," she replied...

...sounding less than enthused.

Not good.

"Mrs. Puckett, I was just thinking...if you're going to be too busy during the next couple of weeks to get ready for her birthday..._on April 17__th_...I could help you out. Would you like me to order a cake or anything?"

"Nah. That's okay," she stated...

...off-handedly.

"Well, I just thought I'd offer," I replied. "Anyway, I'm going to make plans to celebrate with her myself for some other evening, since I'm sure you're going to want to celebrate with her, just the two of you..._on April 17__th_."

"Hey, Harvey!" she shouted (mostly in my ear), "Throw me a coaster!"

I sighed with relief.

She was writing it down.

Which was the main objective of my call.

"Well, if you decide you need any help getting ready for Sam's birthday..._on April 17__th_...just let me know," I reiterated, one last time.

"Thanks, Carly," she answered...

...hanging up abruptly.

I made a beeline for my desk.

_March 25th,_

_Dear Mom,_

_I just left Sam, less than an hour ago, but it's already taking its toll..._

_...I'm officially experiencing 'Sam withdrawl'!_

_But fortunately, there is light at the end of the tunnel. I'm taking her to lunch Friday afternoon, and while we're there, I'm going to start planning her birthday celebration with her. _

_She's going to be turning 18, so I want it to be special._

_We can't actually celebrate it on the day of, since that's going to be family time - and she'll be spending it with her mom - but that's okay, because celebrating it a few days later will give me even more time to plan. _

_I'm not sure what we're going to do yet, but if it's okay with her, I want it to be just the two of us, rather than having a party. _

_Maybe by then I'll figure out the right thing to say to her._

_Sorry this is so short, but I'm off to dinner with Grandad and Spencer._

_Much Love,_

_Carly_

Getting up from my desk, I took a fast shower, and dressed up (a little). Forty minutes later, I was down in Spencer's bedroom...

...quickly losing patience...

...as I forced him into a dress shirt, tie, and jacket. "Come on...cooperate!" I yelled, as I pushed him down onto the edge of his bed.

"I don't want to!" he argued, trying (and failing) to block me with his hands. "You know I hate having a noose around my neck!"

I resolutely slid the perfect, half-Windsor knot I'd tied up under his chin. "Get over it, Spencer! Girls have to wear things that are even worse! Have _you_ ever had a huge bulge in_ your_ underpan-"

He looked at me and raised his eyebrows.

I shut up.

He reached down for his sneakers...

...but I immediately and expertly kicked them under his bed. Before he could retrieve them, I was digging in the far recesses of his closet; and I soon returned to where he was sitting, and held out a pair of nearly-new, cordovan tassel loafers.

With a sigh, he slipped them on...

...and then stood with his hands plunged, deeply and defiantly, inside the pockets of his gray flannels...

...while I ran a lint brush over the blue blazer he was wearing...

...and_ then_, once he looked acceptable enough, we walked out to our front door, where Grandad was waiting.

He smiled when he saw us. "Who are you two nicely-dressed young people? If you see my grand-kids, tell them I'm waiting out here. Their names are Scruffy and Shabby," he remarked...

...in an incredibly lame attempt at humor.

Spencer and I stared at him in silence.

"What? Its about time you two looked presentable!" he said defensively.

Without a word, Spencer and I followed him out to the car...

...as solemnly as if we were walking to our execution.

After a twenty-minute drive north, we arrived at Grandad's favorite restaurant, a chophouse called _Ye Olde Goat & Crab_. I'd been here twice before, and wouldn't have minded so much if it had been just Spencer and me this evening, because the food is actually pretty good.

After we had been seated and placed our orders, I spent the next fifteen minutes listening to Grandad lecturing Spencer on the futility of a career as an artist...

...grateful that at least the conversation hadn't been directed at me...and the many (according to Grandad) areas of my life that needed improvement.

Finally, Grandad paused for breath and turned to where I sat, hunched over my salad. "Carly, sit up straight. How many times have your father and I told you that?"

Biting back a sarcastic reply, I did as he asked...

...silently...

...hoping he'd turn his attention back away from me and onto...

...onto...

...well, onto _anything else._

But he didn't. "You know, Carly," he continued, "I've been checking online every week, but I haven't seen your web show for over a month. Have you too busy to do it lately...or did _that hooligan_ steal your video camera?"

I sighed. "Grandad, please don't call her that."

He thought it over for a moment and then conceded, "Maybe you're right...I suppose that obnoxious, scofflaw, juvenile delinquents have feelings too."

Fuming, I looked back down at my salad plate and stabbed viciously at a large crouton, which shattered under my fork...

...and I rolled my eyes.

It's gonna be a long, long night.

I looked up to see Grandad still watching me expectantly. And then it occurred to me that I hadn't answered his question.

With a forced smile, I began, "Well, actually, the reason the show is currently on hiatus is because our tech producer, Freddie, is grounded. Several weeks ago, his mom showed up at school early, to pick him up, and she caught him kissing Veronica Marshall, out behind the dumpster near the cafeteria. Needless to say, Mrs. Benson freaked out completely. Anyway, now he's not allowed to spend any of his free time around girls until he completes a 200,000 word essay for her, on 'the evils of manipulative females'."

Grandad slapped the table with his palm. "I never could understand what's wrong with that woman. Young guys his age _should _be out, whooping it up."

Looking down at my empty salad plate, I smiled to myself...trying to picture the expression on Mrs. Benson's face if she were sitting here, listening to this. Turning back to Grandad, I asked, "What about _girls_ whooping it up?"

"Absolutely not!" he snapped.

Now slightly annoyed, I asked, "Isn't that kind of a double standard?"

He shot me a look.

I shut up.

Spencer interjected, "Well then...who are guys supposed to whoop it up _with_? Other guys?"

Grandad shot him a look.

He shut up.

As our waiter cleared the first course, Grandad said, "Carly, remind me when we get home...I've brought you catalogs for Yakima Community College. Have you given any thought to our previous discussion about you becoming a librarian?"

I cringed. I don't know _why_ he kept hammering me about this...or why he was so determined that I become one. I mean, nothing against librarians, but personally, I would be bored to death. Bracing myself for the backlash that was certain to come, I began, "Uh, actually, Grandad, I had another career in mind."

He raised his eyebrows. "Like what?"

"Well...like writing."

"Carly, there's no future in the arts!" he declared...

...while shooting a filthy look at Spencer.

"I don't mean a novelist," I added quickly. "More like...a journalist."

This did little to persuade him. "Oh, you mean you want to end up a chain-smoking, caffeine-sucking, scrounging, freelancing-"

"Not exactly a freelance writer either," I corrected him. "You know...more like...a newscaster."

"That sounds like a easy and wonderful job!" Spencer chimed in. "You get to wear a sharp-looking suit, sit behind a desk, and read off a telepromp-"

"Out of the question!" Grandad interjected. "Those positions are usually awarded by seniority, so Carly's first assignments will probably be in a war zone! I'll tune in to ZNN and see her running frantically around downtown Tel Aviv...trying to dodge bullets _and_ lunatic terrorists...who have bombs sticking out of every single one of their orific-"

Just then, our entrees arrived...

...and Grandad let the subject drop (for the moment)...

...and I gratefully lost myself in my chicken Francaise.

Even though dessert was the best banana cream pie I'd ever had, it did little to lift my spirits, and I sat in silence during the ride home; listening to Grandad lecture Spencer and me about how 'foreigners' have this country on rocket ship to hell.

However, as unpleasant as this was, at least I wasn't worried about more 'librarian coercion' when I got home.

I had a plan.

As soon as we walked through our front door, I tossed my jacket onto the coat tree and flopped down onto the couch.

Grandad sat down in the adjacent chair, but before he could get the first sentence off, I grabbed the remote and exclaimed, "Yes! We made it back home just in time to catch the beginning of the _Girly Cow All-Night Marathon..._featuring the show's thirty best episodes!

Grandad's jaw dropped. "A thirty-episode TV marathon? Of a mindless children's cartoon? On a _school night_?"

Turning to him, I smiled manically. "Just give the show a chance, Grandad!" I said eagerly. "Once we've watched the first fifteen or twenty episodes together, I'm sure you'll have a far different opin-"

He reached across to where I was sitting, and firmly and decisively took the remote from my hand. "Guess again, Missy!"

Ordinarily, anyone who called me that name would soon be the recipient of Sam's wrath (unleashed at my request, _and_ with my blessing), but I realized that, at the moment, it was much more important for me to focus on my 'performance'.

"Ple-e-e-ase Grandad? Just this once?" I whined.

"Absolutely not," he retorted.

I gave an exaggerated sigh. "Well then, how about if we just watch the first ten or twel-"

"No," he said with finality. "It's almost nine-thirty, so go your room...right now. You can study for another hour, but then it's straight into bed."

Lower lip extended in mock disappointment, I kissed him goodnight and then headed for the stairs...

...walking as quickly as I dared.

Obviously, homework was the last thing on my mind at the moment, but since I couldn't go to the roof to send Mom's letter, I hid it under my mattress.

For now.

And then I began to pace my bedroom floor restlessly. What a night! I was both mentally drained _and_ physically wound-up (a horrible combination). Worst of all, I had absolutely no way of relieving my stress.

Five minutes of rapid pacing did nothing to alleviate my suffering (or improve my mood), so I sat down dejectedly on the edge of my bed. As I kicked my shoes off, I realized that the massager I'd almost managed to try out the other day was still underneath the bed...

...right where I'd left it...

...collecting dust.

For about ten seconds, I considered using it...

...because I was so_ insanely _desperate to unwind...

...but then I heard Grandad coming up the stairs.

His room is right next to mine, and during visits he always sleeps with the door open, 'in case burglars try to break in' (his words, not mine). Which meant that using the massager, or even touching myself, was now impossible.

I knew I didn't dare.

Which was frustrating as hell. If I _ever_ needed to have an orgasm and relieve pent-up stress it was _right now_.

But if I (or the vibrator) made any noise at all, he'd catch me...and then he'd probably ship me straight off to a convent (and we're not even Catholic(!)

Now feeling incredibly lonely and very near tears, I got undressed and climbed into bed; and then I lay there staring up at the ceiling; knowing that if it weren't for Grandad's visit, Sam would be lying right next to me...

...right now...

...maybe even in my arms.

I closed my eyes. Oh, God...I wish she was here! I'd lie really, really close to her, and I'd smile at her...and then...

...and then I reached for my Sam/pillow.

Pulling the covers over it and myself, and hugging it as tightly as I could, I rolled over on top of it and began kissing her.

"Cupcake, I love you," she whispered. "Tell me what you want."

"Everything," I whispered back. "I want you to do everything to me."

"I'm going to, Carls...right now...I prom-"

I froze.

Look at me! I'm now so out of my mind that I'm talking to myself/a pillow! If that isn't a sign of insanity...what_ is_? But then again, between all the stress, and the painfully-unfulfilled physical urges, I decided that my insanity is entirely justified...

..._and_ to continue the conversation.

Closing my eyes again, I whispered, "I've never been with anyone, Sam...I've been waiting for you."

"You mean you've...never done this before, Carls?"

"No. Will you please teach me?"

"Yes, I will...right now."

Seconds later, 'she' was rolling me over onto my back and lying on top of me...

...and I felt the first, fierce jolt between my legs...

...which was soon followed by others...

...that came sporadically, yet with steadily-increasing frequency...

...demanding fulfillment.

I lay there, eyes still closed, with the Sam/pillow still on top of my body...

...waiting for the urge to subside...

...mad at myself for instigating it in the first place...

...but ultimately not caring when I realized that the dull persistent ache refused to leave me.

Still, I hesitated...

...knowing that I shouldn't give into it...

...but also knowing that I desperately needed to.

After a few minutes, I caved in.

It was no good. I couldn't stop myself.

Hardly daring to breathe, I reached under the covers, pushed my hand down between my Sam/pillow and my stomach...

...and lifted the front of my nightshirt.

And then, I slid my hand down inside the front of my panties...

...wishing that Sam was here...and that it was _her_ hand.

Even though my panties were still dry, my vulva wasn't...and my first two fingers slid easily along its length...

...up and down...

...repeatedly...

...finally coming to rest against either side of my clitoris.

Breathing shakily, I paused.

I knew that my hand alone wasn't nearly enough to make me orgasm.

I was going to need the vibrator soon.

Which was like begging to get caught.

But there was no turning back now.

I closed my eyes again.

Less than a minute later, my hips were shifting restlessly on the mattress, as my fingers moved, non-stop, between my outer lips.

"Carls?"

"Shh...Sam...we're gonna get caught!" I hissed.

"I know how long you've needed this...and how badly," she reminded me (not that I'd forgotten).

"Sam...I'm so scared!" I whispered.

"You need this...we both know it."

"Sam...I can't!"

"You're going to anyway...right now!" she replied firmly.

"No, please! What if he overhears-"

"Get it from under the bed, Carls."

"I can't!" I whispered loudly.

"_Now_, Carls."

It was not a request.

I reached down and pulled the vibrator out from under the bed.

"Now put it under the covers with you."

I did, and then, without further instructions, I put it between my legs...

...on the outside of my panties...

...pressing it against me so tightly...

...that it entered my outer lips, pushing the crotch of my panties in with it.

I closed my legs around it.

"No, Carls...no underpants."

I gasped. "No...not that! Please don't make me-"

"You heard me, Carls...take your underpants off...right now."

"Please, Sam...no! I want to leave them on!"

"Don't argue with me, Carly Shay...pull them down...right now...or else _I_ will."

I did...

...immediately...

...to my knees.

"Very good, Carls. Now put the vibrator back between your legs."

I did.

"Push it up against your special spot."

Nervously, I spread my lips apart with my right hand and did as directed.

And then I closed my legs around it again.

"That's it, Carls, this is going to feel so good," she whispered.

"I...know," I whispered back.

You know what you have to do next," she said. "You have to plug it in."

"I...know."

Eyes still closed, I slid my hand along the length of the cord, until I found the plug.

"Do you have the end of it?" she asked

"Yes," I answered softly.

"Plug it in."

And then, I withdrew my hand and the plug from under my covers and...

...jumped at the knock at the door.

A split second later, before I could even ask who was on the other side, Grandad flung it open. "What's going on in here?" he demanded.

"N-nothing," I gasped, pulling the covers up under my chin.

"Carly, I heard voices in here!"

"N-no. You must be mistak-"

"I know what I heard," he insisted.

I shook my head.

"Who's in bed with you?" he demanded, taking a step forward and eying the huge bulge under my covers suspiciously.

I froze. If he pulled the covers down and saw my panties around my knees...

..._and what was between my legs_...

...my life as I knew it would be over.

Fortunately, my mind kicked into high gear. "There's no one in my room except us...this is...j-just my other pillow," I replied, quickly pulling it out from under my covers.

He took another step forward. "What about the voices I heard?"

"I was just...on the phone," I replied, gesturing to my Pear phone which (fortunately) was on my nightstand.

"On the phone? Carly, you know how late it is."

I wrestled with my voice to keep it even as I answered, "I'm sorry. I just wanted to see if my study partner, Wendy, had finished her part of tomorrow's presentation that we're doing on the Ottoman Empire," I lied.

He paused to consider. "Oh. Well, I suppose that's alright, but I want you to promise me that from now on, no more phone during study hours...or after bedtime."

"Of course I promise," I reassured him.

Finally satisfied, he left...

...and I immediately shoved the massager back under the bed and pulled my panties back up.

Doing my best to ignore the nearly-overwhelming, painful, throbbing ache that was between my legs, I turned my light off and closed my eyes...

...but even though I was way past exhausted, it was a long time before I fell asleep.

XXXXX

After another night of tossing and turning, I met up with Sam, near the school's main entrance. As I approached, the smile on her face rapidly changed to an expression of grave concern. "Wow, Kid, you look like hell."

Dropping my backpack at my feet, I slumped back against the wall of the building. "Thanks, Sam, I feel s-o-o-o much better now."

She looked at me sympathetically. "He's really wrecking your nerves, huh?"

"You have no idea."

"You wanna tell me about it?" she asked.

I looked down at the ground and shook my head.

Without a word, she reached down, picked up my backpack, and carried it to class for me. Then she left the room and made her way to the principal's office.

It was her turn to read the morning announcements.

Barely awake, I sat staring straight ahead, at nothing in particular, listening to her voice coming over the loudspeaker...as she passed along the usual, boring information about upcoming school events, etc., etc., etc.

She did really well...

...until she got to the last announcement: "Balls are Missing from the Athletic Department."

Then, after unleashing her heartiest laugh, which echoed, loudly, throughout every hall in the building, she decided to ad-lib her own ending to the story.

And you can imagine the rest.

As soon as she returned to homeroom, Briggs gave her two detentions...

...despite her vehement protests.

The dark cloud over her head still hadn't dissipated by lunchtime, and she stormed into the cafeteria in the foulest of moods, with me right behind her.

Less than ten minutes later, as I sat in the seat next to hers, trying my hardest to figure out how to cheer her up; she savagely bit into the first of her nine tacos, which promptly shattered, liberally spraying the two kids sitting across from her with a shower of meat, cheese, tomato, lettuce, and onion fragments.

(They both knew better than to complain.)

"I told you to get flour tortillas, instead of the hard ones," I reminded her.

She shrugged and, still scowling, she reached for her can of iced tea.

"Come on, misery loves company," I said sympathetically. "Just remember, you're not the only one who's incarcerated...but at least you get to walk away from _your_ warden, after only two hours."

She slumped down into her seat without answering.

Watching the two kids across the table dust the taco debris from their clothes and hair, I asked, "So, since you're off work, how have you been entertaining yourself in the evenings?

She slammed her now-empty can back onto the table. "Believe it or not, I've been so bored that I actually called Fredweird...to see how his essay is coming along."

I nodded. _"And?"_

She turned to face me. "At the rate he's going, we'll be doing our next broadcast from a nursing home!"

"What's the problem?" I asked.

"He complained that he's not allowed to get close enough to girls to discover their bad habits."

"Then what did you say?" I asked.

"Nothing...his mom snatched the phone out of his hand, and screamed at me until I hung up," she answered dejectedly.

Completely bummed, I stared down at the graffiti-marred table top.

Worse and worse.

My week sucked.

Her week sucked.

I didn't know how to cheer her up.

And that sucked.

I missed her...

...and I didn't know if she missed me...

...and that _really, really_ sucked.

And finally, I just couldn't help myself. Even though we were in the cafeteria...

...surrounded by more than one hundred other people...

...I leaned over and rested my head on her shoulder.

She stiffened immediately...

...but at least she didn't move away. Still staring at her now-empty plate instead of at me, she said in a low voice, "Come on, only a few more days. I don't have to work until six on Friday evening, so we can spend the entire afternoon together...okay?"

I didn't respond. I wanted to yell that I still was incredibly frustrated...frustrated that she couldn't spend the night with me at least for rest of week, and God knows how much longer after that.

I just wanted her with me...alone.

Even if I couldn't touch her...

...I just wanted to have her, all to myself, for a little while...

...not in a theater, not in a restaurant, not in a classroom, not in a cafeteria...

...alone.

Just the two of us.

She reached over and gave my hand a squeeze. "Come on, only a few more days."

I sat back up and, not looking at her, I nodded.

"Carls, call me tonight?"

I turned to face her. "I will, Sam. I promise."

When I got home that afternoon, I quietly opened my front door a crack and peeked inside. All was clear. Maybe Grandad and Spencer were out running errands or something.

I stepped into my living room, close the door behind me, and strained my ears.

Silence.

Yes!

I tore up the stairs...

...and into my room...

...leaving my door open so I could hear them when they did get in.

I fell back onto the bed and whipped out my cell phone. Ah...Carly Time! No homework! No teachers! _No constructive criticism!_

I glanced at my watch. It was still way too early to call Sam, so instead I checked my email, watched a couple of music videos on _WhoTube_, left a few tweets, made an appointment for a haircut, and bought a DVD from _Scamazon_.

I don't remember falling asleep.

I _do_ remember waking up though.

Suddenly and for no particular reason, I jerked awake and immediately looked over at my clock. It was nearly seven, so I lit my table lamp and fumbled around on my bed until I found my phone. I was halfway through dialing Sam's number when Grandad passed by my open door. "Carly, dinner's ready, so leave the books and come downst-." He stopped speaking and stared at me.

I froze.

"Why aren't you studying?" he asked.

"I uh, dozed off."

He raised his eyebrows. "Yes, you dozed off...with your cell phone instead of with a book. Didn't you promise me that you weren't going to call your friends during study hours?"

"But I needed-" I began.

"Didn't you promise me?" he repeated firmly.

"Yes, Grandad."

Without another word, he walked into the room and then, to my complete surprise, he took the phone from my hand.

"Hey! I need that!"

"I promise you can have it back tomorrow morning, right before you go to school," he replied. "And_ I_ keep_ my _promises."

"But-"

"No, Carly. Study first. Always. Now come downstairs."

Muttering something that I won't repeat here, I jumped up off the bed in a huff.

He turned. "What was that you said?"

"I uh...will come downstairs. I'm...just going to use the bathroom first."

He nodded and left.

Less than five minutes later, I was standing at the sink, washing my hands...

...thinking about Sam.

Oh my God! I promised I'd call her. Now she's gonna be...

...she's gonna...

...be...

...I don't have any idea how she's gonna be.

Will she be mad? Will she be sad? If she looks sad tomorrow, then that means she missed me! And in a way, that's a really good sign.

But then again, if she shrugs it off, then that means...uh, what_ does _that mean?

I'm not sure how long I contemplated these questions, but I finally looked down at the bar of soap...

...which had turned into a big ball of mush in my hands.

I quickly rinsed and dried them, and then I hurried downstairs.

Spencer was quick to notice how quiet I was at the dinner table. "What's on your mind, Kiddo?"

Not taking my eyes off the plate of fettuccine carbonara in front of me, I shrugged.

"She's probably sulking because I took her phone away," Grandad announced.

I looked sorrowfully across the table at Spencer, who nodded understandingly.

He turned to Grandad. "You've always treated Carly like a little princess. Don't you think you've been...kind of hard on her during these past few visits?"

Grandad looked at him. "No I don't...not at all...especially now that I'm aware of the kind of company she's been keeping. Besides, Carly will be graduating in a few months, so it's high time that she grew up and started to shoulder some responsibility."

He turned to me. "So, when is this big test of yours again?"

"Friday," I answered, immediately and without thinking; realizing, a split-second too late (and to my horror), the full implication of what I'd just said.

It meant that he'd be taking my phone away_ every afternoon_, from now until then.

Now I won't even be able to call Sam in the evenings!

It's gonna be the longest week of my life!

I excused myself as soon as I could and trudged up to my room...

...and spent the rest of the evening in solitude...wishing that morning would hurry up and come...

...because even though I currently had to share Sam with the rest of the world, I still looked forward to seeing her at school, away from Grandad's endless criticisms and suggestions..

The next two days dragged by unmercifully...

...and then, late Thursday evening, Grandad found me in my room, hunched over my desk. As he approached, I hurriedly closed my notebook (in which I'd been doodling _'C loves S'..._surrounded by countless hearts) and pulled one of my open library books toward me (I was now so incredibly desperate for something to do, that I'd actually started reading them).

"It's after eleven. Aren't you going to bed?" he asked.

"Yes. In a few minutes," I assured him.

He pulled my phone out of his pocket, and looked from it to me. "If I give this to you now, do you promise not to call anyone tonight?"

"Yes," I answered truthfully.

"I didn't hear a promise."

"Yes, Grandad. I promise."

He set my phone down next to me. "Well, goodnight then."

I leaned up and kissed him.

The instant he left, I silently closed my door and then, phone in hand, I fell down onto my bed...

...in triumph.

He made me promise not to call anyone...

...but he never said anything about texting!

_Dear Sam,_

_It's so hard not seeing you! I rly need a hug! Do u need 1 too? I wish you were here rt now so I could give you 1! Do u miss me? I miss u so much! XOXOX, C_

I read the message over twice...

...very carefully...

...and then, with a sad smile, full of longing...

...I erased it and got into bed.

Reaching over to my nightstand, I set my phone down and picked up a small, framed photo of Sam; the one I'd taken of her last September. She was sitting on the lawn in Meridian Park, on a rare sunny afternoon, with her back against a broad oak tree, and with a beautiful play of light and shadow in her hair from the light falling through the leafy branches above her.

I couldn't wait for tomorrow to arrive. Even though we'd only be together for an afternoon, I was really looking forward to seeing her.

And buying her lunch.

And planning her birthday.

And finding out when her next free evening was going to be.

"Tomorrow," I whispered, with a smile...

...my first genuine one in days...

...as I fell asleep looking at her picture and hugging my Sam/pillow.

XXXXX

A/N: To those of you who_ never_ review: Come on...I'm not writing this stuff for my health, you know!


	4. Chapter 4

Even though I hadn't slept more than four hours, I woke up_ way_ before the alarm clock went off.

And there could be only one logical reason for that.

It's Friday!

Goodbye, Grandad...hello Sam!

I rolled over onto my back and looked up at the ceiling with a broad smile of anticipation...

...but less than five minutes later, I was out of bed...

...because since I was now wide awake and had all this additional time, I wasn't about to waste it...

...so I put a lot more effort than usual into getting ready. Even though I was going to wear jeans and sneakers (last night's forecast had predicted rain), I still wanted to look as good as I possibly could for Sam; since we were going out to lunch right after History class let out, at 11:30.

After a long session in front of my mirror, I packed my books and then checked my reflection one last time. Heading downstairs, I met Spencer, who was hurrying_ toward_ the staircase, while looking slightly panicked. "Carly, mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Not at all...but what's wrong with yours?"

He stood there, with his legs crossed in the unmistakable 'Gotta Pee(!)' stance and answered, "Well, I finished sculpting the bunny yesterday; and when I was in my bathroom cleaning up, I left an open, nearly-full, twenty-pound bag of plaster on the top of the toilet tank. Sometime during the night, it tipped over, and most of it landed right in the bowl, and now...well let's just say that I don't have time to chisel it out at the momen-"

With a gasp, he stopped speaking and ran upstairs...

...and I headed to the kitchen.

Apparently, Grandad wasn't awake yet, so I wrote a goodbye note, promising that I'd call him soon; and then, even though I was really in the mood for pancakes, I had a fast bowl of cereal, in order to get out of the apartment before he came downstairs.

As I was leaving, I saw Spencer flitting around his sculpture, laying out brushes, and opening several cans of paint. He looked up and called, "Have a good day, Kiddo!"

"Back at ya." Halfway out the door, I paused. "What do you want me to make for dinner tonight?"

"Whatever you want," he replied. "I won't be home until late...probably after nine...because as soon as I finish this I have to go over to Socko's and help paint his delivery van...so just leave the leftovers in the fridge."

"Will do," I agreed, closing the door behind me.

The combination of anticipating seeing Sam, and the imminent threat of rain (as evidenced by the gray/black clouds overhead) sent me racing (body, heart, _and_ mind) through Meridian Park...

...and I arrived at school ten minutes later...

...but twenty minutes early...

...so I sat down on a bench near the front doors, trying to figure out what to get Sam for a birthday gift. I know she's a big fan of the _Hot Top Pick _store, at the Seattle Arcadia Mall, but she already has a bunch of shirts from there. Maybe I should just ask her outright. No...that would be too obvious...I'd much rather surprise her, I decided. After ten minutes of focused contemplation, I gave up (for now), hopped off the bench, and began looking around the main entrance for Sam.

Yesterday, right before my last class let out, our teacher had instructed us to report directly to the nurse's office this morning, rather than to our homeroom; since we were the first group scheduled for lice inspection. Once the raucous cheer had subsided, he advised us that Ms. Briggs would _also_ be there, right on time, to take attendance; and therefore, not to even _dream _of skipping out...or of not showing up as scheduled.

I checked my watch. Sam had said she would meet me here – right about now – but I still didn't see her. I waited for a few minutes more, but when she didn't show, I wondered if she had meant the side entrance instead of the front one; so I decided to do a lap around the building before I went inside...

...but even though I looked all over - including behind the two rows of holly bushes which flanked the front entrance (she often hid/napped back there) - there was still no sign of her.

Finally, as I walked around to the back of the building, I caught sight of her...

...sneaking out of a door which led to the 'dry storage' area of our cafeteria...

...holding something in her right hand...

...which she hastily hid behind her back the instant she saw me.

"Oh...hey, Cupcake!" she said, jumping in surprise...

...and smiling guiltily.

"Good morning, Sam...what's that?" I asked suspiciously, while gesturing toward her hidden hand.

"Uh, no comment," she replied...

...all-too-quickly...

...which, coming from her, was_ never_ a good thing.

"Sam! What are you up to?" I demanded...

...but she just shook her head, turned away from me, and shoved something white into her left front pocket.

And then, without a word, she walked around to the front of the building...

...and hearing the final bell begin to ring, I followed.

Once inside, we turned left, into the west wing; and a minute later, we approached the crowd of rowdy students gathered around the door to the nurse's office.

Promptly at 8 a.m., The Antichris-...oops...I mean _Francine Briggs_ came marching purposefully up the hall, clipboard in hand, glaring accusingly in all directions. However, none of us batted an eye, since this wasn't a new phenomenon. It was common knowledge that the evil troll regularly prowled the halls...

...before, between,_ and _after classes...

...forever on the lookout for malingering teachers and marauding students.

Stopping abruptly, she glared at us all, in a way that left no doubt as to what was on her mind; and so, after a lot of shuffling and shoving, we found ourselves lined up, in alphabetical order.

As soon as she'd worked her way to the end of the line (spewing criticism/insults liberally all the while), and had marked us 'present', she headed back to the classroom; and then Sam, who was directly ahead of me, turned around and announced, "This is gonna be so much fun!"

Before I could ask her what she could possibly find 'fun' about a lice inspection, the nurse called the first name. "Eric Daniels!"

"What is?" I asked, curious, as Eric disappeared into the office.

In reply, Sam just smiled mysteriously.

"Kevin Fredrickson!"

My heart lurched. "Oh no! Sam, when you make that face you are_ most definitely_ up to no good...so even though I have absolutely no idea what you're planning, _I forbid you to do it!_"

"Charles Gibson!"

Sam frowned. "Come on Carls...don't be a spoilsport...you know what they say...'Crap diem!'"

"It'snot 'Crap diem'...it's 'C_arpe diem'_...and it means 'Seize the day'," I corrected her. "Actually, the full quote is '_Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero', _which means '_Seize the day, putting as little trust as possible in the future_.'"

She smiled broadly. "Yeah...and that's good advice...because I_ know_ what _my_ future is gonna include, once I-"

"Lydia Jefferson!"

"And what exactly _do _you mean by that?" I asked suspiciously...staring at her...

...for more than a minute.

"Giselle Larson!"

"I'll never tell," she finally retorted.

"Sam! Spill! _Now!_"

She shook her head.

"Kurt Marshall!"

I sighed. It was time to drag out the heavy artillery. ..

...and so, without further hesitation, I shot her_ 'The Look'_.

That did it.

"Okay, okay!" she finally agreed. "Here, hold this," she requested, reaching into her pocket and handing me a plastic, zip-lock bag.

I did as she requested.

She opened it, and plunged her hand inside...

...and then, I watched, open-mouthed, as Sam scattered a fistful of rice liberally over the top of her head.

"What are you _doing_?" I demanded, as she rapidly worked the grains down into her hair with her fingertips.

Fingers still moving, she stared at me, incredulous. "Isn't it obvious, Carls?"

"Christopher Olsen!"

And then her intentions dawned on me. "Sam! Don't you dare even _dream _of-"

"Samantha Puckett!"

She stepped through the door...

...and, seconds later, I listened to a very long, high-pitched scream coming from inside the room.

A full ten minutes later...

...Sam emerged...

...with a _detention notice_ in her hand...

...and with a smile of triumph on her face...

...but before I could tell her off...

...I heard "Carly Shay!"

I walked in...

...to see the nurse, visibly shaken, sprawling on a chair in the corner. "Shay, do you have lice?" she gasped.

"No."

With a dazed/distraught expression, she waved me out of the room...

...her arm spasming uncontrollably...

...and I tore down the hall after Sam.

Since Briggs's English class was considerably shorter, thanks to the inspection, the rest of the morning flew by...

...which is just as well since I wasn't really paying attention anyway...

...because I was so busy planning what to say to Sam over lunch.

Finally, the bell rang...

...and less than fifteen minutes later, we were on the 505 bus, heading uptown to _Zang Bangs_. During the ride, I sat listening, while Sam gave me an incredibly detailed account of her 'adventures' in the nurse's office...

...especially the expression on her face when she had looked at Sam's scalp...

...while I reached over and picked several stray grains of rice out of her hair.

"...and _then_ I said, 'Nurse Murphy, I thought you told us you were looking for _rice!_' Too bad the Old Fossil has no sense of hu-"

Just then, we reached our stop, so Sam's story was cut short when I jumped up off my seat, grabbed the front of her jacket, and dragged her toward the door of the bus.

Two minutes later, we were walking through the front door of...

_...Zang Bangs_, which features both Traditional and American Regional Chinese cuisine, and is housed inside a former shoe store, on a narrow side street. To this day, it remains one of Seattle's best-kept culinary secrets.

I don't know if you've ever eaten there, but it's definitely worth the trip

The interior features the obligatory, _garish_, red-and-gold décor...

...but the food is absolutely stellar.

After the waiter had taken our order, I turned to Sam and said, "You know, until we ended up in that psycho Nora's basement last year, I never knew you liked Chinese food."

"I_ love_ it," she replied, "even though I've only had it three other times."

If anyone else had told me that, I would have been surprised...

...but I was well aware that Sam never had any money to go to restaurants...or even to buy groceries; and since her mom rarely does either, dinner at their house is usually scrambled eggs, or a grilled cheese sandwich, if Sam's lucky...

...which is why I often have her over to my place/take her out to eat. But it had never occurred to me to have Chinese with her before, because she'd never mentioned that she liked it.

Leaning back in her chair, she surveyed me from across the table. "So, Cupcake...what's on your mind at the moment?"

"Well, I was just wondering what you think about-" I began...

...but just then, the wonton soup arrived...

...and I realized that no matter what I might have to say, it was no match for _that_ level of 'competition'...

...so I put my question on the back burner for the time being...

...and instead watched, as Sam immediately 'went to town' on her soup.

A lot of people laugh at how rapidly - and how much - Sam eats, but I think it's really sad...

...because she always acts like she never knows where her next meal is coming from...

...and _that_ breaks my heart...

...so, I didn't interrupt her until the bowl was empty. As I sat, alternately eating and watching, I hoped that her new, condo painting gig would be a long one; and that she'd have the ability - and the desire - to continue working for her cousin Garth afterward.

Finally, she set her empty bowl to one side...

...and resting her elbows on the table, she looked at me...

...and I smiled warmly back at her across the top of my iced tea glass.

"Now, where were we- oh, yeah...whatcha thinking about, Cupcake?" she asked.

"Well...guess what very important day is coming up?" I answered.

She stared at me in silence...

...completely clueless.

"I'll give you a hint," I continued. "It's in April."

Her eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh, you mean the eleventh? The anniversary of my mom's house arrest ending? She celebrates that every year, by getting a couple bottles of Mad Dog and-"

"Not exactly," I interrupted. "I was referring to the _seventeenth _of April."

To my surprise, she looked back at me...

...with a completely blank face.

"Come on, Sam! Your birthday..._remember?_"

She stared down at the tablecloth. "Oh. Yeah."

"So, what does your mom have planned for you?" I asked eagerly.

She shrugged.

Not good.

"Sam? Didn't she tell you yet?"

Still avoiding my gaze, she replied, "Uh, actually, she told me that she's going to be...elsewhere that night."

"Well then, what about during the day?" I asked. "I'm sure she's going to spend some time with you _then_...isn't she?"

Not lifting her eyes...

...she slowly shook her head.

(Damn! I_ did_ remind the woman.)

I sat watching her for almost a minute...

...but she didn't move in the slightest...

...so finally I said, "Sam?"

No response.

"Sam...are you okay?"

Not looking up at me, she replied, "Yeah...it's...no big deal."

My heart gave a wrench as I answered indignantly, "Oh yes it_ is_ a big deal...it's your_ birthday!_"

I heard the tremor in her voice as she answered, "I'm...used to it. We never...she usually...doesn't..."

I did some fast thinking. Leaning across the table, I covered her hand with my own and said, "Hey, I'm sorry that your mom's not going to...I mean, in a way that's _good_, Sam...because, don't you see, now we can celebrate together on the day _of!_ So...I'd like to have you come over and spend the evening with _me_."

She lifted her eyes...

...which suddenly looked shinier than usual. "R-r-really?" she asked, blinking rapidly.

"Yes! I do!" I said eagerly. " And for dinner, I'll make...anything you want!"

"Anything?"

"Yes," I assured her. "Whatever you want. Just name it."

She thought it over for a minute. "Well...I've always wanted to try Cornish hen."

I gave her hand a squeeze. "Not a problem. Now, what about the appetizer and side dishes?"

"I'll...leave that up to you," she answered shyly.

"Okay," I agreed. "And then, after dinner, I have a few surprises planned."

"You mean like...a party?" she asked.

I hesitated.

I hadn't expected this.

I took a deep breath. "Uh, actually, I had planned to celebrate, you know, just the two of us...unless you'd_ like_ me to invite some other people...because I _could_-"

"No," she said...

_...quickly_...

...but before I could decide _what that meant_...

...the waiter returned with our entrees...

...and I watched with great satisfaction as Sam smiled all the way through the main course. At first I thought that might be because the food was so good, but even after we had finished our flaming ice cream dessert, and the busboy was clearing our empty plates, she was still smiling at me from across the table...

...and then it occurred to me that she was actually excited that she was (finally) going to have the chance to celebrate her birthday properly this year.

At that moment, I was pulled out of my reverie, as she remarked, "Carls, thanks so much for lunch. This is the most awesome Chinese food I've ever had."

"You're welcome," I answered. "I'm really glad you enjoyed it."

She opened her mouth to reply...

...but was immediately distracted...

...when the waiter returned, and laid a plate with two fortune cookies on the table between us.

Sam was ecstatic. "Yes! The best part of the meal!"

She immediately reached across and grabbed hers, but it was obvious that she was waiting for me to go first; so I picked up the other one, as she sat breathlessly.

"Hurry up, Carls!" she urged. "What does yours say?"

I opened it, removed my fortune, and read it aloud. _"'Beware the color yellow today'_...how stupid!" I exclaimed. I tossed the piece of paper into the empty ashtray on the table...

...and then looked over, and saw Sam staring at back at me...

..._horrified_. "Carls! What are you doing?"

"Sam, I've read some dumb fortunes in my day, but that's definitely _The Dumbest._"

She lunged for the ashtray. "Don't _ever _say that! These things are legit!" she stated earnestly, fishing it back out.

"You_ have_ to be joking," I began...

...but then she looked up at me...

...and I saw the expression on her face.

Oh no.

She can't_ possibly_ be _serious._

Still clinging to the hope that she was joking, I said, "Sam! They're written by some idiot who works for the fortune cookie company."

Sam raised her eyebrows. "Well, yeah...but he or she..._Knows!"_

"They're fake!" I announced.

"They're not!" she insisted.

I shook my head in disbelief. "Come on, Sam...for someone with so much _Street Smarts_...when did you suddenly become so incredibly gullible?"

"I'm not!" she insisted again. "I'm telling you, these things are for real!"

I rolled my eyes. "Are you telling me that you take these things..._seriously_?"

"Yes. Very."

"Oh, come on," I scoffed, "give me_ one _example of a cookie fortune that was true."

"Okay," she agreed. "Last year, one of my mom's boyfriends took us to dinner...and my fortune said, '_You will soon go through a difficult period'._"

"So?" I countered.

She leaned across the table. "And two days later, I got the most god-awful cramps! It was the most difficult period I've ever had!"

It took everything I had not to laugh in her face. "Sam that's just a coinci-"

She held up her hand to silence me. "And the second one I got said, '_You will be hungry again in an hour'._ And damned if I wasn't!"

"Sam, that's-"

"No, wait!" she cut me off. "The third one said, '_You are not illiterate'_. And I'm _not_...or else I wouldn't have been able to read it."

"Uh, Sam..."

"So, how did he know that, Carls? See? That _proves_ these things are for real!"

Fighting the urge to contradict her (again), I gestured toward the broken cookie in her hand. "What does this one say?"

She pulled the fortune from it and read, _"'Today, slow down and take in your surroundings'..._and I'm gonna!" she stated determinedly.

With a sigh, I decided to let the matter drop. Her disillusion was ridiculous, but still, it was harmless enough; so I reached across the table for the bill holder, and then pulled out my wallet. After I'd paid, we got up and collected our belongings; but as Sam headed for the front door, I laid a hand on her arm. "Just a sec...I have to use the bathroom."

She nodded, and we made our way toward the back, right-hand side of the dining room; following the arrow marked '_Restrooms_'.

I stopped short when I saw the '_Out of Order_' sign on the door of the _Ladies' _room. "Aw, man!"

"There's an idea," Sam chimed in. "You could just use the_ Men's_ room, while I keep watc-"

I shook my head. "No, thanks! After hearing your description of the _Men's_ room at _Chili My Bowl_, I think I'll just wait until we get home."

It wasn't raining when we emerged from the restaurant, but the gutters were still badly flooded from the previous night's thunderstorm. Once we had walked back around the corner and over to the bus stop, I unzipped my backpack and pulled out the bus schedule. After studying it for a minute and checking my watch, I turned to Sam. "Okay, the next bus will be here in about ten min-"

"Hey, Carls! Look at that dog!" she interrupted, taking off like a shot. Halfway down the block, she stopped and said a few words to the well-dressed, middle-aged man on the other end of the leash, and then she dropped to her knees and threw her arms around the neck of the most gorgeous Irish Setter I'd ever seen.

I smiled as I watched her hug him, and scratch behind his ears...

...because I'm always incredibly touched when I witness one of her rare displays of affection...

...but then, suddenly - and for no apparent reason - she looked up from the dog and screamed "_CARLS!_"

I didn't see the school bus until the last second.

Somehow, its front and rear right wheels had jumped the curb, several feet from where I stood...

...and now it was almost on me.

As my heart literally stop beating, I jumped back as quickly as I could.

It missed me by less than two inches.

Loudly cursing the driver for not stopping to see if I was all right, she ran over to where I was standing. "Oh, my God, Carls! Are you okay?" she asked, her voice shaking badly.

"Y-y-yes...I think so," I replied.

And then, with a gasp, she slowly turned away and looked down at the sidewalk, about ten feet from where I stood...

...exactly where the school bus had jumped the curb...

...e_xactly where she had been standing less than five minutes ago..._

...and we both realized that if she hadn't walked over to pet the dog, then she most definitely would have been hit.

She turned back to me and laid a hand on my arm. " Are y-you _sure_ you're okay?"

"Yes. I'm sure," I replied...

...and reasonably convinced, she let go of my arm.

Still slightly shaken, I took a few deep breaths to steady myself and then, feeling somewhat calmer, I looked back down at the bus schedule, trying to estimate when we could expect to get back to my place.

Two-thirty.

Perfect, I thought with a smile.

That would give us more than enough time to...

...hmm.

"Sam, when we get home, do you want to watch _Girly C_-" I began, turning to my left again...

...but she wasn't there.

Looking behind me, I saw her, with her nose pressed against the huge display window of the _Sneaker City_ store behind us.

"Hey, Carls, come check out these new, state-of-the-art, red-and-blue Meeboks!" she urged.

Seconds later, hearing a loud (and therefore large) vehicle somehere nearby, I turned back around. "Sam, get over here. I see the 505 bus...it's three blocks away," I announced, pointing down the street.

It was true. I did see the bus...

...for about five seconds...

...because at that moment, the driver of an approaching taxi saw my raised arm, and apparently thought I was hailing him...

...because he quickly turned from the middle of the street...

...right into the gutter...

...and I staggered backward as I was slammed with a huge wave of mud and water...

...from my head to my waist...

...most of it hitting me full in the face.

"Sam!" I yelled.

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," she replied distractedly. "Just a second."

"Sam! Help!"

That did it.

I heard her gasp and then she yelled, "Carls!" and ran over to me.

"Oh God! It's in my eyes! I can't see!" I wailed.

"Stop rubbing them! It'll only make things worse!" she advised, quickly pulling my hands away from my face. As I continued to whimper, she added, "Hang on...I have a bottle of water in my backpack!"

Less than a minute later, she was cleaning my face with a wet T-shirt, while I stood panicking, wondering if I'd have to go to the E.R. and get my eyes flushed. Fortunately though, it turned out that none of the mud had actually made it past my lashes.

Once she had got enough of the crud off that I could actually see, I hurriedly turned back to the curb. "Oh, no, Sam! We missed the bus!"

"Well, we could just take a cab," she suggested, as she stuffed her grimy, soggy, extra T-shirt back into her pack.

I nodded, hoping one would come along soon, because I know I was a sight. My face still felt grungy, and mud was definitely all over my hair too...

...and I still hadn't had a chance to use the bathroom.

There was a bar about six doors down from where we were standing, and for a moment I considered going in there, ordering a soda (as a gesture of goodwill,) and asking if I could use the Ladies' room...

...but then I looked down at my beige sweater...

...and instantly changed my mind, because it was covered in mud. Even though the sweater was made of cotton, and therefore was machine washable, I realized that it was probably ruined...but still, it was a relief to see that none of the mud had hit my new, light blue, sun-bleached jeans.

I cursed myself for not wearing my rain jacket today.

Sam read my mind. "Yeah, but don't worry...as soon as we get home you can take a shower."

We spent the next ten (frustrating) minutes trying to flag down cabs, but none of them would stop for us because the upper half of my body was so filthy.

With a sigh, I looked (yet again) at the bus schedule. The next 505 was due in twenty minutes...

...but it was running late, so we ended up waiting almost_ forty_.

When it finally arrived, Sam got on ahead of me, strategically (and successfully) blocking my grungy appearance from the driver; and once safely aboard, we sat all the way in the back.

Sam spent most of the trip home shooting death stares at every passenger who dared to look at me with curiosity.

After what seemed the longest ride of my life, we finally got off at the most convenient stop, less than a block from Bushwell Plaza...

...and, now_ really_ needing to use the bathroom, I ran inside, at top speed, with Sam right behind me.

And then, as I stood waiting for the elevator...

...with my thighs clamped tightly together...

_...holding it..._

...Sam turned to me.

"Wow, that was some sprint! Don't worry though, I don't think anyone saw you covered in mud-Carls...are you okay?"

"I will be in a few minutes...right now, I have to pee..._so bad!"_

She nodded sympathetically. "I know. We left the restaurant almost two hours ag- oh look, here's the elevator."

As soon as it stopped at the eighth floor, I tore down the hall and, after some frantic fumbling with my key, I flung the front door open.

My mind barely registered the powerful, heady smell of fresh paint as I ran for the stairs.

"Hey! _Spencer's _bathroom is closer!" Sam reminded me.

Still running, I looked over my shoulder. "Can't! It's out of order!"

I should have watched where I was going.

Two steps from the staircase, I ran right into Spencer's huge, yellow, plaster bunny...

...and as I stumbled...

...it teetered dangerously...

...for about a second...

...before falling over...

...directly onto me.

And then, as I flailed my arms and legs...

...on my way down to the floor...

...it started.

I couldn't help it.

I tried my hardest to hold it back...

...but it was impossible...

...because the unexpected shock caused me to momentarily lose control of my pelvic muscles...

...and the instant my knees hit the floor, I gasped...

...as I felt the warmth between my legs...

...as a dribble of pee leaked out of me...

...and into my panties.

Even though I'd managed to break my fall with my hands...

...the weight on my back was just too much...

...and, as my palms skidded forward on the floor's hardwood surface...

...I landed flat on my face...

...with Spencer's sculpture directly on top of me.

Fortunately, it was hollow...

...and I wasn't injured...

...but that's not what I was thinking about at the moment...

...instead, I was focused only on trying to clamp my thighs shut...

..._desperately_ trying to stop myself from releasing any more urine.

To my immense relief, I succeeded...

...but less than ten seconds later...

...Sam had lifted the bunny off me and was picking me up.

And, as I was hauled to my feet...

...my legs separated.

"Sam no!" I yelled...

...trying frantically to get away from her...

...but unfortunately, both of her hands had a firm grip on my upper arms.

"Oh God! _Oh, my God, Sam!_" I yelled, thrashing wildly...

...but unaware of what was happening, she tightened her grip. Looking into my eyes, she said, "I've got you! Are _you_ okay?"

And as I struggled to make her let go...

...while trying – and failing – to press my legs back together...

...I tried my hardest to hold it back.

But I couldn't.

I had waited too long.

And, to my complete mortification...

...I felt a second stream of pee, two or three ounces this time, leaking out of me.

Within seconds, it had completely saturated my the crotch of my panties...

...and I felt its hot wetness penetrating them...

...and beginning to soak into the crotch of my jeans...

...right in front of her.

"Sam..._oh, God!_" I gasped...

...and then...

...suddenly realizing that something was very wrong...

...she looked down...

...and I looked down...

...and both of us watched...

...paralyzed with shock...

...as I completely lost control of my Kegel muscles...

...and a unstoppable torrent of urine forced its way out of me...

...completely drenching my panties...

...pushing its way through the thin silk of the crotch...

..._and_ spilling out the inside of both leg openings...

...as it gushed rapidly down my legs...

...turning my light colored jeans dark as the denim absorbed it...

...and I felt its hot wetness quickly spreading all the way down the insides of my thighs...

...and then my lower legs...

...even though I was desperately trying to stop it...

_...even as I felt it soaking my socks, and leaking into my sneakers..._

...but I couldn't...

...not until my bladder was completely empty.

And then, as Sam raised her head...

...I looked up at her...

...completely humiliated...

...and, as I saw the stunned expression on her face...

...I started to cry.

Without a word, she immediately picked me up in her arms...

...and I buried my face against her shoulder...

...sobbing loudly...

...as she hurried into the elevator.

Less than sixty seconds later, she set me down, still fully dressed, into the bathtub and climbed in with me.

Fighting back tears...I watched as she thrust her hands into all my pockets and began rapidly transferring their contents into her own, while saying, "Don't worry...everything is alright now!"

She paused for a moment, and looked up at me. "But...do you see what I mean, Carls?"

"Ab-bout w-what?" I asked.

"About the fortune cookies," she replied. "Mine said to stop and take in my surroundings. If I hadn't noticed the dog and gone over to pet him, that bus would have hit me. If I hadn't walked over and looked in the store window, I would have been sprayed with mud too...lift up your foot...okay, now lift your other one."

I did, and she removed my sneakers and socks, and then she stood up. "Raise your arms for me."

Once I had, she pulled my grungy sweater over my head; and then she removed my bra.

When I didn't answer her question, she repeated, "Do you see what I mean?"

I shook my head. "Sam...that's j-just a c-coincidence."

As she opened my zipper and struggled to wrestle my urine-drenched jeans down my thighs, she continued, "I'm sorry, but I totally disagree. Your fortune said to beware the color yellow today...and look what's happened. School buses are _yellow..._taxis are _yellow..._Spencer's bunny is_ yellow..._and-"

She stopped speaking.

She was pulling my soaking-wet panties down.

My stained, formerly _white,_ panties.

And, once they were halfway down my thighs, she looked at them closely...

...and I knew exactly what she was thinking.

_Pee is yellow._

I shut my eyes tightly...

...dreading and waiting for her to say it...

...waiting for my humiliation to be complete...

...waiting for her to break my heart by reminding me that I'd just wet my panties...

...right in front of the girl I love...

...right in front of the girl who I've tried _so hard_ to get to love me back...

...right in front of the girl who will now undoubtedly be grossed out by the memory of it...

_...every time she looks at me..._

...but instead, there was only silence.

I opened my eyes...

...to find her standing up straight, and looking directly into my own. "...and everything is okay now," she said gently.

Completely unconvinced, I closed my eyes again and shook my head.

She knelt down again, and seconds later, I felt my soaked, clammy panties slipping down my thighs, and then past my calves.

"Lift your feet again...one at at time," she directed.

Putting my hands on her shoulders for balance, I did, and, with difficulty, she pulled my jeans and panties off me. Then she turned the shower on, adjusted the temperature, gathered up my wet clothes, and climbed out of the tub.

Turning back around, she smiled at me reassuringly, and then she closed the curtain.

I was in no hurry to get out...

...because I knew I couldn't face her again.

Not now.

Not after what she had just witnessed.

When I finally emerged, twenty minutes later...

...there was a complete change of clean clothes sitting on the vanity...

...but my urine-soaked, muddy ones were nowhere in sight...

I checked the hamper...

...but they weren't in there either...

...but then I noticed that the box of trash bags we usually kept under the sink were now sitting on the counter...

...and I realized what that meant.

She was taking my clothes home to wash them...

...all of them...

...including my sneakers, I realized, as I glanced around the floor.

I got dressed slowly.

As I entered my bedroom...

...she was looking out the window...

...with her back to me.

Her backpack was on the floor by my bedroom door and, the way it bulged confirmed my theory that she was taking my stuff home.

Hearing me walk into the room, she turned away from the window...

...but I immediately sat on the far edge of my bed...

...and stared at the floor...

...unable to look at her.

Moments later, she crossed the room and stood directly in front of me.

"I just checked the bunny...and it doesn't seem to be damaged in any way," she announced.

I didn't respond.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Eyes still on the floor, I shook my head.

After a moment's hesitation, she said, "Don't worry, Carls, I'll never tell anyone about the taxi...or the bus...or the bunny...or..._or any of it_, I promise...okay?

I nodded.

Long pause.

"Do you feel better now?"

I shook my head again.

"Carls, what's wrong?"

"Y-you.._.know_."

"No , I don't," she answered softly. "Please tell me."

"I...can't."

"I want you to, Carls."

"No. Please don't make me say it."

"Come on, Carls. Say it."

Head still bowed, I replied, "N-no..._please_ don't make me!"

"Yes," she insisted, "I want you to tell me."

Still looking downward, I felt hot tears of humiliation sting my eyes as I answered, "I'm s-so embarrassed. I just peed m-my pants...right in front of you."

She took a step forward, until her thighs were inches from my forehead. "Huh? _Pee?_ What do you mean?"

Stunned, I lifted my eyes to hers. "You know I d-did...y-you _s-saw!_"

She stared at me...

...looking more confused than I've ever seen her before (or since). "What pee? Carls, what are you talking about?"

When I didn't answer, she hurried to the other side of the room and threw every one of my windows open.

And then, as I watched in total confusion, she walked back to me and held out her hands.

After a moment's hesitation, I took them...

...and she pulled me to my feet...

..and led me around the bed...

...over to the open windows...

...and sat me down next to them.

Smiling, she said, "Now I understand what's happened. Spencer really needs to ventilate the living room when he's working on his art projects. Obviously, the paint fumes in here are so concentrated that they've made you light-headed...and now you don't have any idea what you're saying...or any concept of reality."

I opened my mouth to protest...

...but she shook her head. "Don't say anything. Right now, just breathe deeply...and get all of that garbage out of your lungs."

Too stunned to argue, I did as she directed...

...while staring down at the rug...trying to figure out what she was doing...

...and what it_ meant_.

A minute or two later, I felt her hand under my chin...

...and then she gently lifted my face...

...and, as my eyes met hers...

...I saw her smiling down at me.

"Is that any better, Carls? Does your head feel clearer?" She paused for a moment, and then asked softly, "Or are you still imagining things that_ never_ happened?"

Too overwhelmed with love and gratitude to answer...

...I leaned forward and pushed my face against her chest...

...and she began to gently stroke my hair. "Are you, Carls?" she asked in a low tone.

With my face blissfully cushioned against her softly-rounded breasts, I shook my head.

And then...

...just as I was wishing that the moment would never end...

...her hand came to rest on the back of my head.

We stayed that way for a very long time...

...neither of us moving in the slightest...

...until finally, she said, "I have to go."

"I wish you could stay," I replied against her chest...

...not even caring if I sounded needy or desperate...

...and then, I waited, breathless, for her to say she wished she could stay too.

But she didn't...

...and I felt her hand leave my head...

...and felt cool air on my cheeks as she stepped away from me.

Seconds later, I looked up shyly...

...and saw her putting her jacket on.

"Sam?"

She looked over at me. "Yeah?"

"Uh...do you want to...when do you think..." my voice trailed off.

She was looking at me...

...apparently unsure of what I was trying to say.

I took a deep breath. "D-do you think you could...do you want...t-to stay over...s-sometime?"

The way she hesitated broke my heart.

But finally, after a long stretch of silence, she answered, "Well, I'm sure I can get Garth to give me off for my birthday...so I could stay over then...if you want me to."

I nodded...

...absolutely crushed that she didn't say that _she _wanted to.

And then, with a smile...

...she was gone.

_And then_, still fully dressed...

...I got into bed...

...under my covers...

...and pulling my knees up to my chest...

...I rocked myself to sleep.

XXXXX

I spent most of Saturday running errands.

Alone.

When I got home, around four-thirty, it was still kind of early for dinner; so I decided to make a sundae instead. Unfortunately, the phone rang unexpectedly as I was pouring the hot fudge, and I jumped in surprise, spilling a liberal amount of it on my white T-shirt.

Cursing both the spill and the fact that it had been caused by a jerk-off telemarketer...

...I hurried upstairs to change my shirt...

...and as I opened my dresser drawer to get a clean one...

...I jumped again...

...when I saw the beige sweater I'd worn yesterday...

...now completely clean _and_ neatly folded...

...sitting on top.

Once I had recovered from the shock, I reached over and, hands trembling, I opened the drawer where I keep my jeans...

...to find my sun-bleached ones, also washed and neatly folded, at the top of the pile.

And then I opened my underwear drawer.

All of my panties look the same, so I'm not sure which ones were from yesterday...

...but after I'd dressed this morning, there were three pairs in here..

...and now there were four...

.._.all_ neatly folded.

Hurrying over to my closet, I pushed the door open and looked down at the floor.

Yes...there they were.

Stunned, and wondering when she'd been here, I returned to my dresser.

As I lifted the sweater out to get to the T-shirts that were beneath it...

...I noticed that it was 'Ocean Breeze' scented...

...just like the laundry detergent Sam uses.

I was deeply touched...

...not just because she'd washed all my clothes (_and_ had managed to get all the stains out(!)...

...but because she had folded them with such care. You've probably never seen how Sam abuses her own clean laundry; but if you have, then you'll understand why seeing the way she had handled mine made me want to cry.

There was only one thing to do now.

_March 30th,_

_Dear Mom..._

_Sometimes I feel so certain that Sam loves me! I want to tell her how much she means to me...so badly!_

_She does so many things for me...things that she never does for other people. _

_But then, when I try to get her to admit that she feels anything at all for me...she never does. It seems like she knows what I want to say to her...and she's not letting me..._

_...maybe because she doesn't have the same feelings for me._

_What am I going to do? I don't want to lose her...but I can't live like this anymore either! _

_Please...is there any way you can tell me what I should do?_

I paused for a moment...

...and then I continued writing.

_Sorry about that...I know you've left, and that I shouldn't expect you to reply. Still...I wish you were here! _

_Maybe some day I'll be able to figure all of this out._

_Please know that I think about you always..._

_...and that I love you forever,_

_Carly_

Getting up from my desk, I picked the letter up, and then retrieved my other letter to her from under my mattress. Sitting down on my bed, with my back against the headboard, I held both of them...

...for a long time...

...thinking...

...wondering...

_...wishing..._

...but before I could head to the roof...

...the exhaustion from my long day finally caught up with me...

...and, even though the afternoon had not yet ended...

...I fell asleep...

...with both letters still in my hands.

XXXXX


	5. Chapter 5

"_THIS ISN'T HAPPENING!"_

"It's not the end of the world," Spencer reminded me.

"_Yes It Is!"_ I insisted, just as loudly (and obnoxiously).

"No. It's not."

"Read it!" I demanded.

"I_ did _read it" he replied.

"Read it again!"

With a sigh, Spencer took the one-page notice from my hand...

...the notice that a Bushwell Plaza staff member slid under our front door sometime last night...

...the notice that I'd just found, this Saturday morning, right after we'd finished having breakfast.

Spencer cleared his throat. "To: All eighth and nine floor residents. From: The management team of Bushwell Plaza. Due to the rapidly-nearing deadline for completion of required upgrades to the building's electrical system...and the impending inspection of same, it will be necessary to temporarily discontinue gas and electric service to the entire eighth and ninth floors, as of ten a.m. on Friday, April seventeenth. Residents can expect power to be restored no later eleven p.m. that evening; although it may actually be possible to restore it sooner. Meanwhile, all eighth and ninth floor tenants will be unable to use any gas and/or electrical appliances, lighting, etc. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause, and will work diligently to minimize any inconvenience. Thank you for your anticipated understanding in this matter."

"A-R-R-R-R-R-G-H!"

Spencer handed the memo back to me. "Carly, don't you think you're exaggerating a bit?"

I stared at him. "No! I'm not! Why can't they just finish their stupid project during the day? Like _normal _contractors?"

Spencer shrugged. "Maybe they get paid overtime for working evenings."

His logic did nothing to relieve my anger. "Hooray for them! But why does it have to be on the _seventeenth?_ You know I had plans to celebrate Sam's birthday that night."

He nodded sympathetically. "I know you did; but can't you just reschedule? Invite her over for some other ni-"

"I can't do that," I interrupted, "she's so excited! This will be the first time we've...I mean, I just don't want her sitting home alone on her birthday! Her mom's not even going to celebrate with her...she found something_ 'more important'_ to do."

Spencer laid a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sure Sam will understand. Besides, you _did_ have a party for her before; a couple of years ago," he reminded me.

"Yeah...back when I invited Pete," I admitted. "That ended up being a disaster, in more ways than one."

"Well...if it's really that important, you can _still_ celebrate with her on the seventeenth," he replied.

"How, Spencer? How am I supposed to cook dinner for her with no gas or electric?"

"Just take her to a restaurant instead," he suggested.

"I can't. Not after I promised her that I'd _make_ dinner; it would be a total cop-out. Besides, a restaurant would be too impersonal. I wanted us to celebrate, to, uh..you know..."

Spencer raised his eyebrows. "Just the two of you?" he asked.

I averted my eyes. "Uh, yeah."

He stepped to one side, until he was directly in my line of vision again, and then he smiled down at me. "I think that's really sweet."

I slouched back against our front door. "What am I gonna tell her?"

"Just tell her the truth. She'll realize that it's not your fault."

"Still, she'll be heartbroken," I reiterated.

"No she won't," he argued. "Not a girl as tough as Sam."

I sighed. It was pointless to correct him, so I didn't bother to try. No one but me ever got to see Sam's vulnerable side...so no matter how carefully or explicitly I explained, he'd never fully understand how badly I was about to hurt her.

With a sinking heart, I climbed the stairs to my room and sat down at my desk. Reaching into the bottom, right-hand drawer, I pulled out a manila file folder; and opening it, I looked down at the birthday dinner menu that I'd spent the past week planning; and the long, corresponding shopping list; and the list of possible gifts I had been considering for her; and the list of possible songs to have playing in the background that evening.

All now_ useless_, I thought, as I turned the pages.

Finally, I pulled out the last piece of paper...

...the one I'd gotten yesterday from Socko's cousin Cookie, who's a pastry chef. It was a recipe for an elaborate and decadent, _Triple Chocolate Truffle Cake_, covered with semi-sweet ganache (a sinful combination of equal parts chocolate and heavy cream). This would have been the perfect birthday cake for Sam, since she's such a chocoholic. I couldn't make it now, not even a day ahead while we still had our power turned on, because it absolutely_ has_ to be refrigerated.

And on Friday, I'm not gonna have a working fridge.

Even worse, I couldn't ask Cookie to bake one for me; because, as of Wednesday, his shop will be closed; while he's in Paris; where he spends two weeks every year doing something he refers to as "getting inspired", which really translates into 'ripping off ideas' (chefs are notorious borrowers and thieves). Nothing against Cookie though; he's a great guy.

I lowered my elbows to my desk and rested my head in my hands, realizing that this whole thing is going to be a disaster. On Friday, I won't even be able to give Sam her gift, although I had finally decided what to get her. She mentioned the newly-released Meeboks on display in the window at Sneaker City, so that seemed the perfect gift; but when it comes to shoes, Sam's a little hard to fit...she always needs to try them on. I had been planning to take her to Sneaker City the following day.

With a sigh, I put the recipe back into the file folder and returned everything to my bottom drawer. Slumping in my chair, I turned toward the bedroom windows and stared out at the gloomy sky which shrouded the buildings across the street, and whose atmosphere matched my mood perfectly.

"Bye Kiddo!" Spencer soon yelled up the stairs, intruding on my melancholy. "Be home around four."

"Okay, see you then" I called back dejectedly, not taking my eyes from the windows.

After nearly an hour spent staring out into the sea of fog, dreading what I had to tell Sam, and _worse_, having absolutely no idea how to break the news to her, I finally got up from my desk. Crossing the room to my bed, I lifted one edge of the mattress and retrieved my mom's two letters; which had been hidden there all week, because I'd been too busy, for a number of reasons, to send them. After putting my jacket on, I slid the letters into the inside pocket, and headed to the elevator.

As I got out on the top floor, and walked down the hall toward the doorway at its end, my heart sank...

...when I saw at least nine workmen, toolboxes and electrical components in hand, swarming in, out and around it; not to mention the two who were actually sitting on the floor outside the door, eating lunch.

On a Saturday.

They almost never show up on weekends!

Great! Now I can't even send my mom's letters.

Ten minutes later, I was back in my bedroom...

...where I spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon...

...staring out my windows, despairing as the damp, foggy hours crawled by...

...feeling completely bummed, and more than a little stressed.

Suddenly, I thought of the still unused vibrator under my bed. I had been so busy planning my evening with Sam, going over every single detail again and again, that I had completely forgotten it was there.

Spencer wasn't at home, so this would be the perfect opportunity to use it, I realized...

...but less than a minute later, I completely nixed that idea.

I just wasn't in the mood.

After all, orgasms are supposed to be _fun_...and I was sure that, if I were to have one right then, it would totally suck...

...just like everything else in my life did at the moment.

Besides, I couldn't even contemplate having fun right then...

...because all I could think about was Sam. And how crushed she's going to be when I cancel on her. You're probably thinking that it would be perfectly fine with _you_ if a friend had to reschedule _your_ party, and I'm sure you're right. But in this case it's different. Sam's never had a real celebration on her birthday before...and I know how much this one meant to her.

I couldn't even talk to her about it for another two days; because as we were walking home from school yesterday, she'd mentioned that she'd be working all weekend, and this wasn't the kind of thing I could do over the phone...that method is for cowards. I was going to have to tell her on Monday...

...to her face.

Despite my monotonous, overcast, stressful, suckish weekend, Monday morning arrived all-too-quickly.

As soon as Spencer dropped me off, I walked all around the building, scanning the grounds carefully for Sam, wanting to get the whole thing over with as quickly as possible (yes, telling her this early would undoubtedly ruin the rest of her day, but she hates school so much that it's just as well), but there was absolutely no sign of her. At five minutes before eight, I had to give it up, and go into the building, to my homeroom. Finally, she came flying into the room, and landed in her seat (completely out of breath) at the last possible moment, just as the last bell had finished ringing.

Since she sat all the way across the room from me (Briggs had separated us last year...for talking), conversation was now impossible; so I decided to tell her right after class let out; but when it did and we were walking to Algebra, a fight broke out in hallway and besides eating, there's nothing Sam loves more than watching a good fistfight.

She was still talking about it, especially the fact that it had taken four teachers to break it up, as we headed to our History class; and so, it wasn't until we were seated at the lunch table that she realized something was wrong.

"You're quiet Carls," she remarked, looking up from the heaping plate of institutional fish sticks that she'd liberally camouflaged with barbecue sauce, which sat on the table in front of her.

"Yeah," I admitted, "I have a lot on my mind at the moment."

"Like what?"

I shook my head. "Not now, I'll tell you after school," I mumbled as she looked at me, obviously confused.

Neither of us said much more during lunch...

...except when she asked, "Why is Fred-tard sitting all the way over there, on the other side of the cafeteria, all by himself?"

Wordlessly, I pointed to the floor-to-ceiling windows that ran the entire length of one wall...

...and, as Sam looked in that direction, she saw Mrs. Benson shielding her eyes, staring in...

...with a menacing glare.

"Oh."

Our next class was Chemistry, and even though we share a lab table_ and _the class got off to a late start (due to our teacher's long, loud, dramatic, tearful phone argument with her boyfriend in the hall), Sam didn't ask me again what was on my mind...

...so I sat through my last three classes in a numb, apprehensive daze, simultaneously awaiting - and dreading – three o'clock; and picturing how devastated Sam was going to be. The instant the last bell began to ring, I hurried out the front entrance in Sam's wake - effortlessly – since (as usual) her aggressive, backpack-swinging tactics caused the crowd ahead of her to part like the Red Sea.

And then, as I listened to her ritual, characteristic, primal howl...celebrating the end of the school day...we stepped out into an uncharacteristically sunny, early April afternoon.

Ten minutes later, as we walked into Meridian Park, through its rear gate, I was still wracking my brain for the best way to tell her the bad news.

Less than two minutes later, she interrupted the silence. "Carls, can I ask a favor?"

"Yes," I replied without hesitation, realizing that since I'm about to break her heart, it's the least I can do.

Not slowly my pace, I glanced over and asked, "What can I do for you?"

"Well," she began with a smile, "I was thinking about your offer...that you'll cook anything I want for my birthday dinner...so, for dessert, will you please make the chocolate mousse that you served last Easter? That stuff was incredible! I'd much rather have that than a cake!"

I stopped walking and turned to face her. "Sam."

Not realizing what was about to come, she suddenly took hold of my arm and pulled me off the path, over to the sunny patch of lawn that was located directly behind the park's war memorial, (which conveniently blocked us from the view of anyone coming up the path).

"Come here, Carls," she urged, "I don't have to be at work for another two hours...so let's not waste a perfectly good afternoon!"

Obediently, I sat down, and leaned back against the nearest tree, as Sam sprawled at full length on the warm grass beside me, with her hands behind her head.

"Ah...gotta love April!" she declared, closing her eyes as she turned her face up to the sun.

Heart sinking at the thought that I was about to completely destroy her mood, her week, and probably her month, I took a deep breath. "Sam...there's something I have to tell you."

Rolling over onto her right side, and propping herself up with her elbow, she looked up at me. "Okay."

Cringing with dread, I forced myself to look back at her. "Um, Sam, uh...you see, as far as dinner on your birthday goes, something has happened and I uh...I don't think I'm going to be able to-"

I couldn't continue...

...because I saw the way her expression had changed in that instant...

...and the incredible disappointment in her eyes.

I also saw her lower lip tremble badly for a moment...before she bit it. "It's okay," she said, looking down at the grass, and sounding every bit as disappointed as she looked. "I...I..." She stopped speaking.

I reached over and put my hand on her shoulder. "Sam...I'm really,_ really_ sorry."

"Just forget it. It's...not a big deal," she answered...

...with an unmistakeable catch in her voice.

"Yes it is a big deal!" I insisted.

"Well, things happen," she replied half-heartedly. "I'm...used to it. And I'm sure that, whatever came up, it's a lot more important than my stupid bir-"

"Don't you dare refer to your birthday as stupid!" I cut her off.

And then, it hit me.

Hard.

She thought I was canceling on her because I found something 'better' to do.

The way her mom did.

And that completely broke my heart.

"Oh, God, Sam, _No!_ It's not like that at all!"

Still looking at the grass, she shrugged.

I threw myself down next to her on the lawn, and scooched over until our noses were inches apart. "Sam look at me."

She didn't.

So I reached over and lifted her chin...

...and she reluctantly raised her eyes to mine.

"Listen to me! I'm not canceling because I found something else to do...nothing could ever be more important to me than what I promised you! It's just that...remember when I told you about the new lighting that's being installed on the roof of my building?"

She nodded slowly.

"Well," I continued, "when Code Enforcement came to inspect it, they found some pre-existing violations in another part of the building; which they now have to correct, by the end of next week. Anyway, while they're working, they're going to have to shut off our gas and electric...on the 17th, around 10 a.m...and_ that_ means that I won't be able to use my stove...or any of my other appliances.

"Oh."

"Don't you see? I really, really want to have you over on the 17th...and to make dinner for you."

Not answering, Sam rolled over onto her back again and looked up at the sky.

Without a word, I sat back up and leaned against the tree again, hating that I'd just hurt her so badly. But then, before I could tentatively suggest rescheduling...

...she rolled back over onto her side...

...laid her hand on my knee...

...and, looking up at me, she asked, "Does Zang Bang's deliver?"

It caught me completely off-guard.

After recovering, I answered, "Yes...I'm pretty sure they do. But, Sam, is_ that_ what-"

"Carls, I love their food!" she interrupted. "And if you want us to have dinner together at your place on "Friday, then I'd be perfectly happy with Chinese." She paused for a moment. "Uh, do you think we could we have Cornish hen some other time?"

"Of course," I assured her, "but-" I hesitated. "But what about dessert? You said you wanted chocolate mousse."

She thought it over for a moment. "Well, yeah. Could you maybe make it a day ahead and then, when your fridge goes off, put it in a pan of ice or something...until dinnertime?"

Oh, my God...why hadn't I thought of that?

"Yes!" I replied. "Sam, you're a genius!"

I was expecting a sarcastic reply of affirmation, but instead, she just smiled up at me.

And, as I felt a thrill pass through me as the weight of the world was lifted from my shoulders, I smiled back down at her, and said, "So, let's try this again, shall we? Sam, would you like to come over for dinner on Friday, April seventeenth; so I can have the pleasure of celebrating your birthday with you?"

"Yes, Carls. I'd love to!"

I don't know who was more excited. I_ do_ know that it took everything I had at that moment not to reach down and drag her up into my arms. Forcing myself to refrain, I shifted my thoughts to the most boring subject I could come up with. "So, how was work yesterday?"

"Well, actually, we had to knock off, right before noon,"she replied. "We ran out of paint, and since it was Sunday, Sherwood-Williams was closed."

Reaching over and removing a stray twig from her hair, I suggested, "Why didn't you just go to one of the hardware superstores? They're always open on Sundays."

She shook her head. "We had to use Sherwood's; Garth's landlord set up our business account there. It was okay though...I kind of enjoyed having the entire evening off."

I nodded, slightly disappointed that she hadn't called and invited me to spend it with her. Half afraid to find out what she had found more entertaining then me, I asked tentatively, "So, what did you do with the free time...catch up on your sleep?"

"Nah, actually, I tuned into to USPN's M.M.A. match." It was Shelby Marx vs. Lex Lucifer," she replied. "What a fight!"

"Oh," I replied, slightly relieved. "Who won?"

She shot me a look.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have even asked," I apologized. "How many rounds did they go?"

"Two. It would have been over in one, but since most of her fights only last about thirty seconds, I think Shelby's promoters told her to deliberately hold back and drag things out this time...so the fans feel like they're getting their money's worth."

I laughed. "How did Lex end up? Did Shelby rearrange his face?"

She shook her head. "No, but she messed the rest of him up pretty badly...I hear he has two cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder now. Anyway, since her last fight, she's added a few new moves to her repertoire...wanna see?"

Before I could say 'no', she was on her knees and had both hands under my armpits. "Come here."

As I was hauled to my feet, I exclaimed, "Sam! I really don't wan-"

Ignoring me, she plunged right in. "Okay, this first one is called the _flying anvil_."

I opened my mouth to protest, but was distracted as she began waving her hands vigorously in front of my face. Before I could ask what kind of damage that could possibly do to a person, her left hand dropped, and her other hand pointed to her right. As I immediately looked in that direction, she windmilled her left arm, and as her fist swung around with lightning speed, it made direct contact with the side of my head...

...in a gentle tap. "Guaranteed concussion, Carls. Whattaya think?"

Not waiting for an answer, she continued, "Now, this next one is called the _exploding deep fat fryer_."

(In case you're wondering, this move consists of ramming all ten of your fingertips - hard - into your opponent's face/eyes...although when Sam demonstrated it, her fingers barely touched my cheeks.)

Brimming with excitement, she continued, "And then, after another four minutes of her usual brutality, she finished him off with the _Tibetan yak going over a cliff_.

Before I could brace myself for what sounded like an all-out massacre...

...she grabbed me with both arms...

...hoisted me up high into the air...

...and then, much to my surprise...

...I found myself lying on my back (although she handled me so gently that there was absolutely no impact when I hit the ground) and I looked up, surprised to see her _sitting on top of me_, straddling my stomach, wearing an expression of arrogant superiority.

And, as I looked up at her smiling face, I knew that there was no way I could tell her off for 'beating me up'.

But still, she looked _so_ cocky.

And I wasn't about to forgive that.

Not missing a beat, I said, "And then while she was waving smugly at the crowd, he surprised her with the _mutant feather duster!_"...

...and reaching up with both hands...

...I tickled her.

With a (surprisingly girly) shriek, she fell over sideways and I lunged toward her, but she rolled away. Crawling across the lawn as quickly as possible, I grabbed the back of her pants with one hand, dragged her closer to me, and wrapping my arms around her from behind, I tickled her again.

Unmercifully.

Howling in uncontrollable fits of protest, she managed to turn around and then she grabbed my upper arms, rolled me over, and pinned me...

...and then...

...as I looked up at her...

...while both of us struggled to catch our breath...

...I clearly saw something in her eyes change...

...and then...

...without warning...

...she tickled me back.

Grabbing her arms, I pulled myself up from the ground, and we rolled around on the grass again...

...but, less than a minute later...

...I had rolled over on top of her...

...and pinned her.

_Easily._

And then, to my utter astonishment...

...Samantha Joy Puckett smiled up at me...

...and said the two words I _never_ thought I'd hear her say to anyone:

"You win."

And my mind was blown.

After a minute spent totally speechless, I found my voice again, but all I could think of to say was, "Are you sure Zang Bangs is okay for dinner on Friday?"

With a smile, she nodded.

And, mind still reeling from my much-too-easy victory...

...I absolutely could not resist...

...and I leaned down and kissed her on her forehead.

Pulling back quickly (not daring to kiss her lingeringly), I sat back up on her stomach and looked at her closely, breathlessly, to watch her response...

...and with a frown, she asked, "Can I have whipped cream on top of my chocolate mousse?"

Oh. No.

Pushing my feelings of both relief and disappointment aside, I nodded...

...still waiting...

...but still, there was no other reaction or response from her. Trying my best to not sound overly-eager, I asked, "So, did Garth give you off from work on Friday?"

She nodded.

"So...you can...stay over?" I asked hesitantly.

She looked away. "Do you still want me to?"

"Of course I do. Uh, Sam can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she replied, still looking past my left shoulder, at I'm not sure what.

I took a deep breath and reached for her hand. "Do_ you_ want to sta-"

My hand never made contact with hers, because just then, her phone rang, and she reached down and fished it out of her pocket. "Yeah...what? We do? When? Oh...okay. Yeah, I'm here right now. Sure. Just a minute." Closing her phone, she glanced over at my left hand, which was still on her shoulder; or, more accurately, at the watch on my left wrist. "Sorry, Carls...gotta go."

Confused and disappointed, I rolled off her, and she immediately scrambled to her feet, and hopped up on a nearby bench, craning her neck to see over the top of the war memorial. "Garth's waiting for me over at the curb."

"But you said he wasn't going to meet you here until 5:30," I protested.

"Yeah, that's what he told me when we knocked off yesterday. But now he's saying that we have to get an early start to make up for the time we lost. His boss wants the entire first floor finished by end of this month."

Disappointed, I looked down without answering, but seconds later, she'd wrapped her hands around my wrists and had pulled me up and then, with an apologetic "See you at school tomorrow," she turned and ran across the wide expanse of sun-dappled, grass and toward the battered gray truck parked near the corner.

After she had climbed in, I watched them drive away...

...wishing she'd see me staring after her...

...longingly...

...but she never looked back.

_April 13th,_

_Dear Mom..._

_She let me win._

_She...Deliberately...Let...Me...Win._

_When she comes over for dinner on the seventeenth..._

_...I'm going to tell her how I feel._

XXXXX

Less than a month ago, I thought that my grandad's visit was going to be the longest week of my life.

I was wrong.

The week leading up to Sam's birthday was by far the longest.

As the minutes dragged by, I eagerly looked forward to spending an evening with her alone (Spencer was staying over at Socko's that night); but at the same time, I was uneasy and undecided.

How should I make my move? How could I tell her?

After spending most of the following three days entertaining endless scenarios and their possible outcomes (the majority of which were negative)...I concluded that since it was her birthday, I would have the perfect excuse to act a little mushy, which would allow me to test the waters. And then, if she didn't seem too freaked out at_ that_, then I would just go for it...

...and openly and honestly tell her that I loved her.

Much more than just a friend.

Finally, when Friday morning arrived...

...I was up by six...

...because, between my excitement _and_ my nervousness, I absolutely could not sleep.

Shortly after realizing this, I decided that the best remedy for it was to immerse myself in getting ready for the evening; which was going to be easy since there still was so much to do.

First things first: I hurried up to the roof, arriving before the workmen showed up, and I sent my mom's letters.

Second things second: Errands.

Promptly, and as promised, the electricity went off at ten am, just as I was returning from the corner store...having dragged our wheeled shopping cart through the gloom of another rainy morning. Not a good omen, I thought, as I hung my soggy jacket up in the downstairs bathroom to let it dry.

Spencer had left his big chest cooler on the floor in a corner of the kitchen before heading over to Socko's. After lifting the lid, I half-filled it with ice from one of the huge bags I'd just bought, and then I wedged the bowls of mousse and whipped cream I'd made the night before down into it; along with the big pitcher of (sp)iced tea that Sam loves.

Once I hadd washed the breakfast dishes, and eaten the chicken salad sandwich I'd picked up at the deli down the street, I set to work polishing the sterling silver flatware and glasses; and then I set the table, using our best china that we only ever bring out during holidays.

Next, I put clean sheets on my bed (I'm an optimist(!), and then scrubbed the bathroom, and vacuumed the entire downstairs.

By four o'clock, everything was ready...

...except for one thing.

The rain had finally ended, and abundant rays of watery, late-afternoon sun slanted lazily into our living room as I walked over to the mahogany, cedar-lined storage chest by the windows...

...and lifted the lid...

...and looked down at the big cardboard box, on top of the pile of neatly-folded blankets.

Its edges were now worn, and the white exterior was no longer shiny...

...but, in my opinion, it was flawless.

Because of what was inside it.

I picked the box up...

...and, wrapping my arms around it...

...I held it against me...

...as I closed my eyes...

...and remembered.

Every year when we were growing up, during the week before school started, Spencer and I were each allowed one final 'hurrah' of summer.

Our last one was when I was seven.

It was nearing the end of August, and our parents had asked us how we wanted to celebrate this time.

Spencer decided that he wanted to go to the modern art gallery that had recently opened, over in Newcastle...

...and I had asked to go to the beach, since I'd never been there before.

Mom had already been diagnosed with breast cancer.

I didn't understand it...

...but Dad did...

...and so my dad, a military man who has absolutely no interest in fine art, actually volunteered to take Spencer to the Tate gallery, so Mom could go to the beach with me.

It was the best day of my life.

We had arrived early in the morning to get a good spot, and after we had set up our blankets, etc., I walked to the water's edge. It was my first time seeing the ocean, and I was too scared to go in, so Mom had me jump up into her arms, and held me close to her as we waded out together.

And even though there were some huge waves, she didn't let go.

Not once.

Afterward, we dug a big hole in the sand and she let me bury her...all the way up to her neck. After I had taken a picture of her with my little camera, she worked her way back out, and handed me a huge stack of shiny, new quarters...

...which she said were pirate treasure that she had found under there...

...and I had believed her.

Lunch was gourmet cheeseburgers and gelatto, at a picturesque outdoor cafe on the promenade, overlooking the ocean; and Mom told me how it reminded her of the summers she'd spent on the Boardwalk, when she was growing up in Atlantic City...

...and how much she had loved it...

...and how she really wanted me to go there someday.

Afterward, we went into the arcade and tried shooting at targets with water pistols. I actually won one game, and the prize I picked out was a brightly-colored rainbow ring.

For years, it was one of my most treasured possessions...

...because of all that it represented.

Two years ago, I gave it to Sam. I don't think she realized the significance of it. But after Missy Robinson almost killed her...

...which would have been _my_ fault...

...I had to give it to her.

And every time I see her wearing it...

...I wish I could tell her how much it means to me...

...and how much_ she_ does.

After Mom and I had our fill of the arcade, we visited the _Seashore Treasures _salt water taffy shop. While we were there, she bought me a huge, rainbow swirl lollipop, and introduced me to an awesome candy called _Turkish Delight_, which I still love to this day.

We spent the rest of the afternoon hitting every ride on the amusement pier. Her antique carousel horse had angel wings, and mine was half sea horse. And then, as we were getting into the bumper cars, she bragged that she was the fastest driver of all time...

...and that no one had _ever_ been able to catch her...

...but she let me catch her.

Again and again.

Dinner was Italian, at the _Trattoria Amalfi, a_s we sat by the restaurant's huge bay window and watched the sun setting over the water.

During the drive home, I asked her if we could go again next summer. She looked at me with a sad smile and asked if I'd had a good time, but she didn't answer my question.

December came.

Mom worked as a tailor/supervisor at Carrington's, a huge, upscale department store near Seal Beach; doing alterations on men's suits, and managing a crew of four other people.

One Saturday morning in early December, she took me in to the store with her; and since she was always off on weekends, I knew what that meant:

We were going to see Santa!

Carrington's had the best Santa in town (not _noticeably_ drunk), and I was dancing with anticipation in line, as I eagerly awaited my turn to sit on his lap.

He must have been on speaking terms with Mom, because he called me by name.

"Well, Carly, I've been watching and I know that you've been a very good little girl this year...so what kind of toys would you like?"

Normally, I would have handed Santa a thoughtfully-compiled 'wish list', but this time I looked up at him and said, "No toys this year, please."

His eyebrows shot up. "No toys? Well then, would you rather have some pretty clothes instead?"

"No," I replied. "I just want lots of nice weather next summer, so my mom and I can go to the beach again!"

I still remember the confused look on Santa's face. "I...I don't understand."

"We can't go to the beach when it's raining. And it rains so much around here. So, I want a lot of sunny days," I explained.

Santa nodded. "Oh, I see. Well, I don't really control the weather, dear, but I'm sure you'll be able to go."

I went home happy.

The following Monday evening, when Mom got home from work, she sat me on her lap...

...and told me the most outrageous lie.

And I love her for it.

"Honey, I saw Santa at work today and he said to tell you 'hello'."

I was delighted. Out of all the kids who went to see him at the store, he had remembered me.

"Tell him I said 'hi' back!"

"And he also wants me to ask you something," she continued.

"What's that?"

"Well, he still feels kind of bad about not being able to control the weather; so he wants to know if you'd like, as a Christmas gift, to decorate your bedroom to look like the beach...then it would be almost like being there every day. What do you think of that idea?"

"Oh, Mommy!" I exclaimed. "That would be so nice!"

She smiled. "I told him I thought you'd like it. And then he said that he wants it to be really special for you, so he'd like you to pick out all of the decorations yourself. He's going to give us some money so we could do that; and that way, the gifts are still from him."

"I'd love it. And it sounds like so much fun!"

Next Saturday morning, we were at Carrington's; and by late afternoon, our car trunk was full.

My new wallpaper had a border with seashells...

...there were two colorful, framed sailboat art prints for the walls...

...and a table lamp with a giant starfish base...

...and a mermaid rug for the floor, by my bed...

...and kissing fish bookends...

...and a big palm tree coat rack...

...and a treasure chest toy box...

...and a lighthouse clothes hamper, whose hinged top actually lit up(!)...

...and, finally, an oversized, plush, lobster-shaped armchair, with 'cup holder' claws.

The only thing the store didn't have was a beach-themed bedspread, so Mom went to the store manager and asked if we could special order one...

...but he couldn't.

So we tried every other department store in the area, but still had no luck.

She was disappointed even though I wasn't.

Anyway, we went back to Carrington's and I picked out a plain blue bedspread, which matched the rest of the room.

On our way out of the store, I went over to thank Santa for his wonderful suggestion, but there was a sign on his empty throne, saying he was feeding his reindeer. Mom said she'd thank him for me the next day.

Both Mom and Dad worked hard redecorating my room, and it was a very memorable Christmas.

Shortly after the holidays, Mom's health started to fail.

I knew that she was really sick, because she didn't go to work anymore.

And, even though she never actually said so, I understood now that the two of us could never go to the beach again.

I worried about her while I was at school, but she said that she was busy during the day, and found ways to entertain herself.

The morning of July 24th, I came down to breakfast and found a towering pile of birthday presents stacked at my place on the kitchen table; and Mom, Dad, and Spencer were all smiles as I opened them.

Finally, I unwrapped the biggest one.

The one on the bottom of the pile.

And, as I lifted the lid...

...what I saw inside took my breath away.

It was a huge, beautiful quilt for my bed...

...with a beach scene on it.

And Mom had made it herself.

It was more than a quilt.

It was art.

A wide, blue ocean stretched across the background, with the sun and a few curly clouds in the sky above it...

...and there was a little sailboat on the horizon...

...and the expanse of beige-colored sand in the foreground was dotted with seashells; each one a different shape, color, and design...

...and in the middle was an elaborate sandcastle. On one side of it was a toy shovel, sticking out of the sand; and right next to that...

...was a bright red bucket, with CARLY in gold letters on it.

In the top, right-hand corner she had embroidered, in marine blue script that was curved like ocean waves:

_From Mommy With Love._

It was the most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me...

...and I couldn't wait to put it on my bed.

And every night, as I snuggled under it...

...right before drifting off to sleep...

...I pretended that Mom and I were back at the beach...

...and that she was well again...

...and that the sun was always shining.

Less than two months later, I was sitting outside the funeral home, in a car with a friend of my mom's, crying my eyes out...

...not only because Mom had left and gone to heaven...

...but because Dad said I was too young to attend the funeral.

He thought it would upset me.

Later that afternoon, as Spencer was walking past my open bedroom door, he saw me trying to pull the quilt off my bed.

I turned around and looked at him.

Neither of us spoke.

But then he nodded...

...and a few minutes later, he had returned from our basement.

With the box.

We always save our gift boxes, because you never know when you might need one.

He helped me fold the quilt and put it into the box...

...for safekeeping.

And then we put my plain blue one back on the bed...

...and my special one into our cedar chest.

I opened my eyes and hugged the oversized box closer to me. Thank God this wasn't in my room when it burned last year.

And then, I removed the lid and carefully unfolded the quilt.

It still looked almost brand new.

Looking out the window, I wished that Mom was here right now, so I could thank her for it again.

Suddenly, I noticed the low position of the sun in the sky, and glancing at my watch, I gasped.

Sam would be here in less than two hours.

Hurrying away from the windows, I carefully draped the quilt over the back of our couch; for two reasons: As a good luck charm, and...if all goes well and Sam doesn't freak out...actually daring to hope that we could snuggle together under it later.

I headed back upstairs.

Even though the afternoon was slowly fading, there was still enough light to shower by, but when I returned to my bedroom in my bathrobe, I lit the vanilla-scented candle in a glass jar on my nightstand; and then, by candlelight, I got ready, putting on the outfit of mine that's Sam's absolute favorite: black jeans and a cream, v-neck cashmere sweater.

Dusk was beginning to settle over the city, advancing gradually, yet persistently into our living room, as I hurried downstairs and lit the three dozen candles I'd bought that morning, which now nearly covered every surface.

After lighting the remaining two...the ones on my kitchen table...I lifted the ice chest's lid, and checked the chocolate mousse, whipped cream, and tea.

All looked fine.

And then, after a final glance around the apartment to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything, I called Zang Bangs...

...and ordered enough food for four hungry people...

...well, actually, for one very nervous person, and one very hungry Sam.

I spent the next twenty minutes rapidly and breathlessly pacing the living room...

...waiting.

Finally and with no forewarning, Sam threw the front door open, and I jumped a mile as she announced (loudly), "Ta-da! I'm here! What are your other two wishes?"

Heart pounding, I walked over to where she was standing and smiled, but instead of speaking again, she just stood there looking at me...

...and then I realized that she was actually expecting an answer...

...but if there was one thing I was incapable of at the moment, it was being witty.

Flustered and eager to divert attention from that fact, I reached over and unzipped the front of her bomber jacket. Opening it, I looked down and remarked, "Wow, Sam, look at you...all dressed up!"

"Yeah," she replied with a smile, "it's such a grand occasion that I decided to wear a T-shirt _without _marinara stains on it!"

After I'd helped her out of her jacket and hung it up, I led her into the kitchen. She stopped short when she saw how I'd set the table.

"Carls! You didn't have to break out the good china!"

I turned to face her. "Oh yes I did."

"But...why?"

"Because special things are for special people."

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.,,

...and it was_ my_ turn to look at_ her _expectantly...

...overwhelmed with curiosity as to what she thought of me calling her special...

...and brimming with hope as to what she might possibly say.

When she did answer...it was to ask, "When's dinner?"

Hiding my disappointment behind a smile, I replied, "In about ten-

The doorbell rang.

"...seconds."

I ran to the door...

...but soon returned to the kitchen, and set two huge shopping bags on the counter.

"Here let me help," Sam offered, reaching for one...

...but immediately changing her mind when I gave the back of her outstretched hand a good smack.

"Sam, sit down! Tonight, I'm serving you!"

She began, "But-"

"Yeah..._but_...as in _Butt In Chair_..._now!" _I demanded.

"But-" she persisted.

I turned to her...

...and realizing that she was about to be hit with_ 'The Look'_...

...she immediately flung herself into her seat.

As soon as she'd polished off two huge bowls of chicken noodle Soup...

...I set her nicely-plated entree in front of her, and her face lit up.

"Oh, Carls! You remembered! 'Bow-wow with Broccoli' _and _'Cashew Kitten'? My two favorites!"

I set my own plate down on the table and turned to face her, with my hands on my hips. "Sam! Not only is that joke _not_ funny...it's such a cliche!"

She stared back at me...indignant. "Hey! The Birthday Person is allowed to act_ however _they want! House rule! Remember?"

"Well, yeah, Sam...but we were at _your _house! And even though it was your mom's birthday, I'll _never_ get over the sight of her staggering around, wearing nothing but a-"

"Oh, come on, Carls! I'm sure you've seen skimpier feather boas than _that _one!"

Balling my right hand up into a fist, I swung it downward and gave her a good tap on the top of her head.

She laughed.

So did I.

After finishing two heaping plates of entree, Sam pushed her chair back and loosened her belt a notch which, as always, signaled her permission to bring on the dessert course.

Getting up from the table, I cleared the dinner plates and refilled our iced tea glasses. And then I filled two pastry bags fitted with star tips, one with chocolate mousse, and the other with whipped cream. I'm not exactly a pro at this sort of thing, but while I was at Cookie's shop last week, he let me practice with a bag full of buttercream icing; and after about ten minutes, he had given me his blessing.

Once I had filled the two huge, balloon wine glasses, first with mousse and then with whipped cream, and had garnished both with chocolate shavings, I stepped back and admired my handiwork.

They actually looked pretty good.

Three servings later, Sam finally came up for air; and I knew that it was safe to resume our conversation.

She spoke first.

"So, Carls, now that I'm working so much and Fredweird's incarcerated indefinitely, what have you been doing during the evenings?"

Suddenly inspired, I said, "Well, when it doesn't rain, I've been spending a lot of time up on the roof."

She raised her eyebrows. "The roof? What can you possibly do up there?"

Sighing dreamily, I answered, "Oh, Sam, it's lovely up there at night...under the stars...with a warm, spring breeze blowing through your hair."

"Uh, That's nice," she answered, sounding far from convinced.

I smiled at her from across the table. "Would you like to come up with me sometime? Hey, I'll bet it's really nice _tonight_."

At that moment, even by candlelight, I clearly saw the color drain from her face. "No, thanks."

But I wasn't about to give up so easily. "Well, if you're...concerned about uh...bats, then how about during the day?" I suggested.

"No. I'd rather not," she replied immediately.

"Can you tell me why?"

"I'm...uh...just not interes..." her voice trailed off.

I wasn't going to be cruel. It was obvious that, even though Sam is one of the most fearless people I've ever met, she's definitely terrified of heights. "Never mind," I said gently.

She looked extremely relieved. "Please don't ask me again...I really don't want to."

I did my best to hide my disappointment. "Okay, I promise I won't ask you anymore."

With a sigh, I got up from my chair, went to the kitchen counter, and brought back a small plate with two fortune cookies on it.

As I set it on the table, her face lit up.

But, as she reached for one, I put my shaking hand over hers...

...because I was _way_ too much of a wreck to wait any longer.

"Sam, w-will you come here for a minute?"

With a nod, she got up from her chair, and I led her into living room and across the room, to the framed picture that was sitting on the end table.

The picture of the two of us, taken on the night when we had celebrated our one hundredth iCarly episode.

We both stared down at it for a minute in silence...

...and then I turned to her...

...and she looked up at me.

Hoping that she wasn't aware of how badly my body was shaking, and how badly my voice was _about to_, I took a deep breath. "Sam, I wanted tonight to be special for you because of how much you mean to me. You've always been so kind and so caring...and I can't tell you how much I...I..."

She looked at me in silence...

...apparently unaware of what I wanted to tell her.

But I couldn't say it.

Why couldn't I say it?

Taking a moment to get my courage up, I tried again...

...but I couldn't.

I opened my mouth but absolutely no sound came out of it.

The silence stretched on...

...and she just stood there, looking at me...

...waiting.

Finally, both distraught and hopeful, I threw my arms around her...

...but still she said nothing.

Please Sam, I begged silently. Please say it first! I swear I'll say it if you do first!

But still, no one spoke...

...because she didn't...

...and I couldn't.

Now desperate and near tears, I pressed my body up against hers...

...as closely as I could...

...and, while hugging her tightly, my lips found her neck...

and as they began to carress it...

...she gave me an awkward pat on the back. "It's okay, Carls...what are friends for?"

My heart wrenched.

Friends? Only friends?

And, as I pulled back...

...horribly hurt...

...I saw the blank expression on her face...


	6. Chapter 6

Completely destroyed, I pushed myself away from Sam; and as her hands fell from my shoulders I turned away and tore upstairs.

Slamming my door, I fell face down on the bed and, by the light of the single candle on my nightstand, I bawled.

She didn't love me. Not at all. And I knew now that she never would. And worst of all, I was about to have to listen to an 'I like you...but not _That Way'_ speech.

Wiping my eyes on one edge of my sheet, I somehow managed to reduce my crying to intermittent sobbing, as I lay there waiting...

...for her to call my name...or to come in...or even to knock.

But she didn't...

...not even after twenty minutes of quiet and tearful pleading, hoping, and praying that she would; and that when she did, she'd put her arms around me...

...and not say anything at all.

Because even though my she had just shattered my heart into countless, irreparable fragments...

...all I wanted right now was for her to hold me...

...in silence...

...and then maybe, after she had let go, we both could pretend that this never happened...

...and after she left, I could fall apart on my own...

...privately...completely...permanently...

...without any criticisms or crushing speeches from her.

But the silence in the hallway stretched on, for what seemed an eternity...

...until suddenly and without warning, the lights came on in my room.

Our electricity had been restored...

...and less than a minute later, I realized - to my horror - that I had left more than thirty lit candles unattended downstairs.

Yes. Unattended.

Because I knew now that she was gone.

Now anxious for _two_ reasons, I ran out of my room, down the hall, and into the bathroom; where I splashed water on my face - repeatedly - trying to remove the hot, stinging sensation from my cheeks and my eyes.

It was only slightly effective.

Leaving the bathroom and hurrying downstairs, I raced around the living room and kitchen...blowing every candle out; and then, reluctant and expecting the worst, I looked over...

...to the coat tree by the door.

Her jacket was gone.

And so was she.

Maybe forever.

And, even as my eyes blurred with tears once again, I realized that something was wrong with the room.

Something seemed to be missing from it.

Something besides Sam.

But I wasn't able to figure out what it was, and had absolutely no desire to try...

...because at that moment all I wanted was my mommy.

Desperately.

Wiping my eyes hastily on the back of my hand, I ran out my front door and toward the elevator.

Minutes later, flinging the door that led to the roof open, and not knowing - or caring - whether the contractors were still working over on the other side, I ran through it and looked up to the star-filled night sky.

"M-m-mom!"

It was all I could say...

...before bursting into tears.

Leaning against the wall behind me for support, with my entire body shaking violently, it nearly two minutes before I somehow managed to continue.

"Mom, I love Sam...and I thought that m-maybe she loved me but I think I screwed it all up! She didn't come upstairs after me, and n-now she's gone...and it's all my fault! I know that I shouldn't have pressed my body up against hers the way I did...and that I shouldn't have kissed her on the neck; and I don't know if that scared her, or made her mad...or both...and now I don't even know if she even wants to talk to me anymore! I didn't want to mess this up but I _did_...and n-now...I've probably lost her! Forever!

"Just like I lost you! And it hurts..._so much!_

"I wish you were here with me! Why did you have to leave me, too? There were so many things that we should have done together! I'm not mad at you for it, but I feel like I've missed out on _so much_! When I got my first period, I had to call Spencer into the bathroom, instead of you! We were never able to go to Atlantic City! And remember how you promised that someday, you were going to take me shopping for...for...

Sliding down the wall, I wrapped both arms around my knees and bowing my head, I started to sob.

"...and, Mom, you know I wanted to..._so badly_!"

With effort, I lifted my face back up to the sky. "And now I...don't have Sam either! I love her so much! I swear I wanted to tell her that! I was going to ask her if she would be my girlfriend...I tried so hard to tell her, but I couldn't! And I have no idea what I did wrong...or how to fix it...or even if it _can_ be fixed! Mommy, I need you so badly right now..to tell me what to do!

"I miss you..._so much!_ I miss the way you used to let me crawl into bed between you and Dad whenever there was a thunderstorm, even though he thought it would turn me into a sissy, and that I should sleep in my own bed!

"I miss how you were always able to make me feel better, no matter how upset I was!

"I miss the way you were always so kind..._to everyone_...and how seeing it made me want to be a good person, too...which I've always tried so hard to do...b-because I want you to be proud of me!

"I m-miss how you used to rock me every night before I went to sleep, right up until the end; and when you did, how you would always tell me how lucky you were, because God gave me to you; and that I was the best little girl in the whole world...and Mommy..._Mommy, please!" _I sobbed.

"_Ple-e-e-ase!"_

There was no response.

I had run out of words.

But not out of tears...

...and leaning forward, I lay face-down on the roof, closed my eyes, lowered my cheek onto the damp cement, and bawled. Not caring if I ever moved from this spot...

...and realizing that there was no longer any reason to; as all the anguish and uncertainty that had been building within me for the past several months exploded in my chest...

...and gushed relentlessly through the huge cracks in my heart...

...finally leaving it empty, aching unbearably, and completely beyond repair.

Moments later I heard the sound of heavy footsteps...

...but I didn't bother to even_ try_ to stop crying, because I had no shame left.

I didn't even care if the electrician tripped over me now.

And suddenly, the footsteps stopped...

...and, as I opened my eyes...

...I saw a pair of checkered Van sneakers in front of my face...

...and felt her sitting down beside me.

And then, I realized what was missing from the living room...

...as she removed my huge quilt from her shoulders and wrapped it around me...

...before pulling me onto her lap, and looking into my eyes...

...and saying, with her voice shaking badly, "You_ still are _the best little girl in the whole world...how else could you have made me fall so completely in love with you?"

And then, she was rocking me in her arms as I threw my own around her neck and buried my face against her shoulder...and cried like I had never cried in all my life.

I felt her lips brush my ear as she whispered, "Shh. I'm so sorry your mommy's not here, but Mama_ is..._and she loves you _so much!"_

I couldn't answer.

I was crying too hard.

Tightening her arms, she leaned back against the wall, and pulled me closer to her...

...and as she rocked me, I realized that I_ had _to answer; and so, from somewhere deep inside myself, I summoned enough strength to raise my eyes to hers.

"And...B-baby loves M-mama," I sobbed.

I felt her take a very shaky breath. "In what way?"

I tightened my arms around the back of her neck. "In...in every w-way. You h-have _no idea_ how m-much I lo-"

I wasn't able to finish...

...because her lips were on mine.

Moments later, she pulled back and looked down into my eyes.

"Carls, why didn't you just tell me?"

"I...didn't know if you'd...you-" I couldn't continue.

She let me cry myself quiet.

Once I had, she admitted hesitantly, "I...wanted to tell you too."

Looking up, I asked, "Then why d-didn't you?"

She bit her lower lip. "Because...what if I...lost you? Nothing could be more horrible than that," she replied...

...the exact same words I'd used when I wrote to my mom.

Tilting my face closer to hers, I asked, "Why did you think you'd lose me?"

She looked down and shook her head.

"Come on, please tell me," I begged. "I promise I won't be mad...no matter what you say."

She looked away. "Well, it's just that..."

I waited, patiently and silently, for her to continue.

When she did, it was to say, "...Carls, it's just...that all the people we know who are probably gay...well, it's just that you seem to...to _hate them_.

I stared at her...not comprehending. "What? Who? Why?"

She took a deep breath. "You know...Nevel, Wade Collins, Jocelyn, those Petographers Stuart and Ollie.." her voice trailed off.

I continued to stare at her...

...but now in open-mouthed disbelief. "Sam, I hate them for the same reason you do...because they're low-life creeps!"

She nodded slightly. "I know that. But I also thought that...maybe that wasn't the only reason."

"What other reason could there be?" I asked...incredulous.

She hesitated for a moment, and then replied, "Remember what you said about Stuart and Ollie? Your exact quote was, "I'd like to impale those two vicious drag queens on their own stiletto heels! Repeatedly! Until they stop shrieking!"

I paused to consider. It was a very valid point.

"Okay, Sam, maybe that was uncalled for," I admitted, "but I was furious. They had just trashed our studio!"

She lowered her eyes again.

I reached over and putting my hand under her chin, I gently lifted her face.

"No, please look at me. I promise you that there's no other reason why I hate any of them." Pausing to take a deep breath, I continued, "Look, I'm sorry that I wasn't open and honest about how I felt...and that I only hinted around...but didn't you realize what I was trying to tell you?"

She shrugged. "At first I didn't know...and then, I was going to ask, but _then_...I thought you wanted me to leave...when you shoved me.

"I never shov-" I began...

...and then stopped abruptly...

...remembering how I had pushed myself away from her.

She continued with obvious sadness and confusion in her voice, "Carls, I...I don't know what I did wrong..."

"Nothing!" I gasped. "Oh, God, Sam! Oh, God...I'm so sorry!" And as I pulled her close to me, I felt the way she was trembling.

Suddenly confused, I leaned back and asked, "Where were you just now?"

Wordlessly, she pointed to her right...

...to a shadowy corner of the parapet.

Still confused, I added, "But, what are you doing up here? I thought you said you _never_ wanted to come up on the roof."

"I was just...trying to figure some things out," she replied, avoiding my eyes.

We sat in silence for a minute or two, and then she turned back to me. "Carls," she began, "I'm really, _really_ sor-"

I laid my fingers across her mouth. Reaching up, she pulled them away and then, after a moment's hesitation, she continued, "I do love you Cupcake. Do you w-wanna see h-how m-much?"

I nodded slowly.

And then, even though Sam is absolutely terrified of heights...

...she scooted out from under me, and with her entire body shaking violently, she walked over to the railing. And then, white faced and with her arms extended far above her head...

...she leaned over the edge.

With my heart in my throat, I jumped to my feet and ran over to the railing as quickly as I could, to put a stop to her recklessness.

Grabbing the back of her shorts, I yanked her back to safety...

...and then, I hugged her. As tightly as I could.

Tilting her head back, her gaze met mine."That's h-how m-much, C-carls!" she exclaimed.

I put my hand on the back of her head, and gently lowered it onto my right shoulder; and then I wrapped both of my arms around her again.

We stood that way for I don't know how long...I had lost all sense of time. But eventually, her arms released me, and I let go of her; and then, withut a word, she took my hand...

...she slowly led me back downstairs.

Once I had closed my bedroom door behind us, she kicked off her sneakers, climbed up onto the bed, and pulled her socks off.

And as I sat down on the edge, she reached over with both arms, wrapped them around me...

...and pulled me up onto her lap.

And then, with one arm around my shoulders, and the other one under my knees...

...she rocked me as I began to sob again.

"Shh...everything is okay now. I promise," she said softly.

I nodded. "I l-love you, Mama."

"And Mama loves Baby," she replied without hesitation. She paused for a moment. "And please...call me Sam from now on."

"Why?"

She swallowed hard. "So it won't be weird when we...we-"

And without another word, she leaned in and kissed me.

And I kissed her back.

Minutes later, I noticed a change in her breathing...

...which was quickly followed by a change in my own, as she leaned her upper body away from me slightly...

...and I felt her hand move slowly down my chest...

...and then settle between my breasts.

I wrapped my arms around her neck as our lips parted, and then...

...I felt her hand move over to one side and, slowly and tentatively, settle onto my right breast.

I gasped against her mouth.

She leaned back. "I'm sorry. Do you want me to st-moomph!"

Apparently feeling more sure of herself now that I'd answered her question (albeit non-verbally), she resumed kissing me; and I felt her hand moving slowly, deliberately, back and forth between my breasts...

...and she gently caressed first one, and then the other.

My mouth left hers momentarily as I tilted my head upward and arched my back responding involuntarily to the sensations that began surging through me; and then, hardly daring to breathe, I reached down with my right hand and cupped her left breast.

And as I slowly began to massage it, she slid her hand up under the front of my sweater...

...and seconds later, I felt my bra being pushed up.

As an electric jolt of anticipation ripped through my body, my hand slid upward, off her breast, and I wrapped both of my arms around her neck again. After nearly a minute spent there steadying myself, I sat up straighter and reached around my back...under my sweater.

After nearly a minute spent watching me, as I fumbled with the hooks, she asked, "Would you like me to help you?"

I nodded nervously - yet gratefully - and as I leaned forward against her and rested my chin on her shoulder, she opened my bra, and then expertly pulled it out through my right sleeve.

Heart racing, I reached forward, and as I rested my left hand on the outside of her T-shirt, gently covering her right breast...

...I jerked straight up off her lap from the thrill that shot through me when I heard her soft gasp. And then, as her lips found mine again, I felt the first sharp contraction between my legs. It caused me to shift on her lap...in more than one direction; and as my breathing became more shallow, and more rapid, her right hand snaked its way back up under the front of my sweater, and her tongue slid forward between my lips, and she kissed me slowly and deeply.

And then, as my hands wandered - slowly and deliberately -all over the front of her T-shirt...

...I felt the contractions between my legs becoming more frequent...

...and more forceful; and, as my vulva began to swell...

...I also felt the first traces of slippery wetness that were now inside it.

Her lips left mine. "I love you, Carls. And I'm so sorry that I didn't-"

I didn't hear the rest of the sentence.

I was sobbing again.

And she wrapped both arms around me and began to rock me.

After a minute or two, I decided that it was (finally) time to take control of my run-amuck emotions.

I had cried enough for one night.

So, I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and leaning forward, I rested my head on her shoulder and focused hard on what was happening between my legs.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

"Y-yes."

She leaned back. "Are you sure?"

I nodded.

She smiled at me then...

...in a soft, unfamiliar way...

…a way that I'd never seen her smile before; and, completely captivated by it, I lifted my face to hers, and, as we began kissing again, her tongue began doing the most indescribably incredible things to mine, and suddenly, I became very, very aware of my steadily-escalating arousal...

...as the wetness that had been slowly accumulating in my vulva, completely filling every gap and crevice of it...

...could no longer be contained by my outer lips...

...and so, slowly yet very noticeably, it began leaking out of me...

...and into my panties.

Loving the way it felt, I squirmed on Sam's lap, breathlessly anticipating/hoping that she'd soon release me from my months-long prison of agonizing, unfulfilled frustration.

Her hands had explored every inch of my chest and finally, unable to resist any longer, I slid my hands up under her T-shirt. Reaching around to her back, I unhooked her bra and carefully pulled it out of her right sleeve. And then, my right hand moved back under her T-shirt, and after a bit of careful searching, it found her left breast.

And, as I heard her soft moan...

...and felt the way her lower body shifted under mine...

...not once, but several times...

...it was obvious that she was becoming aroused too.

And as I realized that her underpants were gradually becoming wet...

...the thought of it caused me to make my own panties even wetter...

...as I became more eager than ever to finish what we'd begun.

I brought my lips to her neck...

...again and again...

...and as I did, I heard her gasp...

...and felt her back arch...

...and felt her left nipple begin to respond to my caress...

...as I also felt the pressure of her hand on my own breasts increase...

...as a particularly sharp contraction from deep within my vagina caused another dribble of warm wetness to flow out of me, as I realized that...

...this is a _much more enjoyable_ way of wetting my panties.

I leaned forward, next to her ear. "Tell me what you want," I whispered. "More than anything, I want to make you happy."

Her answer surprised me.

"Go wash your face."

At these words, I came to a complete physical, mental, and emotional stop. And as I pulled back and looked at her, unsure if I'd heard her correctly, she sensed my confusion.

"Go on, Carls, wash your face. I'll wait right here for you."

I nodded, realizing that I had to visit the bathroom anyway...

..._right away_...

...because my panties were now soaked.

But still, halfway out the door, I hesitated...

...uncertain...

...and I turned back around to see her reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Cupcake; I'll be right here when you come back. I promise."

I headed to the bathroom.

Looking into the mirror, I realized why she had made her suggestion; and once I had washed my blotchy, tear-stained face, and rinsed my eyes repeatedly...

...I realized that I needed to pee, so I sat down to take care of that.

And just as I was finishing...

...I looked down at my soaked panties.

Oh, no.

What a mess.

_And _it's started almost a week early.

But at least I now _kind of_ have an excuse for being so emotional.

Fortunately, I was wearing black jeans.

Unfortunately, I was wearing white panties.

And I'd forgotten to bring clean ones into the bathroom.

There was only one thing I could do now.

"Sam?" I called down the hall.

"Yeah?"

"Will you please bring me clean panties?"

"Arrgh!"

"What's that, Sam?" I shouted.

"Nothing," she yelled back. "Be right there."

About a minute later, she hurriedly brought them into the bathroom...

...stopping short and screaming, "OW! DAMN IT!" as her left knee collided - hard - with the edge of the vanity.

"Are you okay?" I asked anxiously, as she bent down and rubbed it with her free hand.

"Ah...shit! Yeah, I will be in a minute...I wasn't watching where I was go-wait. What about you, Carls...are _you_ okay?"

"Yes."

Still attending to her damaged knee, she continued, "Are you sure? The way you yelled down the hall, I thought maybe something was wrong. That's why I came flying in here."

"No, nothing's wrong," I assured her. "I just...uh..."

Letting go of her knee, she straightened up and looked at me. "Just what, Carls?"

Blushing slightly, I admitted, "I just...got my period."

Setting my clean underwear down on the sink, she walked over to where I was sitting...

...and to my complete bewilderment and absolute embarrassment...

...she leaned over...

...and looked inside my panties!

"_SAM!"_

She rested her hand against my cheek and looked down into my eyes. "Yes, you did get it. But, don't worry, Carls...and don't be scared."

"Scared?" I asked, stunned. "What are you talking ab-"

"Shh. Everything's fine. I'm going to help you," she replied.

"Help me? Help me..._what?"_

"Help you take care of this," she replied, gesturing downward with her hand.

Huh?

"Sam when we were on the roof, did you whack your head on a low beam?"

"No."

"Are you _absolutely sure?_" I demanded.

"Yes. I'm sure. Now let me help you."

I sighed, resigned. "Okay. Will you open the bottom drawer of the cabinet and get me a...oh no!"

She frowned. "What's wrong, Cupcake?"

"I uh...haven't been shopping for a while."

"Don't worry," she replied with a smile, "Back in a sec."

A minute later, she had returned to the bathroom, lugging her backpack.

Setting it on the sink, she unzipped it and began pulling random stuff out of it: A yo-yo; an old and battered pocket watch; a pair of binoculars; a half-eaten bag of pretzels; a large and realistic-looking rubber rat; what I sincerely hoped was a _fake_ hand grenade; a voodoo doll with Nevel Papperman's face drawn on it, and with large nails sticking out of it in all directions; a sling-shot; a large saute pan; and a fistful of mismatched socks.

Finally, another eight or nine items later, she had emptied the bag sufficiently to get her hand down to the bottom; and after almost a minute's worth of additional, determined digging, she triumphantly pulled out a hard, plastic cigar case. Walking over to where I was sitting, she opened it, and inside, I saw four tampons...

...that she had previously mooched from me. (For the record: She always does...and I don't mind.) Removing one, she held it out in front of me and asked, "Carls, have you ever used one of these before?"

Huh?

How many times had we been shopping together? She knows exactly what I always throw into the cart.

"Sam...are you feeling okay?" I asked, highly uncertain. "Because right now you're acting really, really stran-" I stopped speaking...

...as the realization of what was actually happening hit me...

...and suddenly, I knew _exactly_ what she was about to say.

Crossing the room, she grabbed the wicker clothes hamper; and dragging it over to where I was, she sat down on it, facing me...

...and then she looked into my eyes...with a Very Serious Expression.

"Carls, there are certain things that every girl is entitled to, and one of them is _The Period Talk_. And, from what I just heard up on the roof, you haven't had yours yet."

"What? _Sam!_"

"_Have you_, Carls?"

"Well, no," I admitted, "...but-"

"Well then," she interrupted, "we're going to discuss this...right now...just the two of us...and I'll share my infinite wisdom with-"

"Infinite wisdom?" I exclaimed with a laugh. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Well, I'm three months older than you are," she pointed out...

...sounding slightly defensive, "so that qualifies me to-"

I shook my head in disbelief. "Sam, this really isn't neces-"

"Yes, Cupcake. It is."

Desperate to escape, I hurriedly countered, "But..._But_-!"

"Carls. It is."

I gave in.

"Okay. Fine," I agreed...

...despite feeling incredibly uneasy about the whole thing.

With a satisfied smile, she scooted the hamper closer, and then, sitting back down on it, she leaned forward and rested her hand on my knee.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to reassure your first time. Now, I want you to tell me exactly what happened."

With a resigned sigh, I began, "Well, uh...I was twelve and it was a Sunday. I was lying on the couch watching TV all afternoon, and when I got up I felt something leaking out of me...and thought I was peeing my pants; so I ran to the bathroom, and I was really scared when I saw what it was...and _how much_."

She looked at me in surprise. "Uh, didn't you know what it was?"

"Well, yeah...I did," I confirmed, "but still, it was scary."

With an understanding smile, she took my right hand between both of her own. "So then what happened?" she asked...

...and as she did, I suddenly felt strangely...shy. Is this how all twelve year-old girls feel, during The Period Talk with their moms?

Thinking back, I tried hard to remember how I had felt when it had happened to me; and wondered if I'd have been just shy if my mom had been with me my first time...

...the way I was feeling right now with Sam.

Suddenly, she cleared her throat expectantly, and snapping back to the present, I continued (still embarrassed), "Well, um, nobody had planned for this, or talked to me about it...at all...so there weren't any...uh feminine products in the house."

"That sucks," she observed (accurately).

"You got that right! Anyway, I had only one option. I had to tell Spencer."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Uh, oh...I don't envy you. What did he say when you told him?"

"'_OH MY GOD!'_ And nothing else."

"Way to go, Spence!" she remarked. "Did he also run screaming from the room?"

I shook my head. "No. After the initial shock wore off, he brought me clean panties-

"Argh! Stop that! You_ know_ how much I hate the_ 'p' _wor-"

"-and a folded washcloth to wear inside them, while he went to the pharmacy for me."

"Well, that was nice of him," she replied with a smile.

"No it wasn't," I declared, "he brought back some awful, unbelievably-_huge_ pads!"

She stared at me...

...open-mouthed...

...and obviously horrified. "Yuck!"

"I know," I agreed.

She nodded and gave my hand a squeeze. "So then what happened?"

"Well, he just handed the package to me and walked away without saying a word. I went into the bathroom and put one on, and I was walking bowlegged, like a cowboy!"

She laughed.

Loudly.

"It isn't funny!" I declared hotly, snatching my hand away from hers and immediately folding my arms over my chest.

The smile slid rapidly from her face...

...promptly replaced with a properly-mournful expression. "You're right," she agreed. "It's not the least bit funny. I'm sorry, Cupcake. What happened next?"

I rolled my eyes. "Come on, Sam! Do we absolutely_ have_ to discuss Every Single Detail of-"

"Yes, Carls," she confirmed soberly. "We do."

With a long sigh of exasperation, I continued, "Okay, okay! Well, needless to say, I absolutely _hated_ wearing them, but I didn't have anything else, and I was _way_ too embarrassed to talk to Spencer about it. Anyway, the next day, during the last class of a very long, uncomfortable, and drippy seven hours at school; as I was getting changed in the locker room, I saw two girls staring at me and whispering...and I wanted to die!

"So, right after school let out, I went shopping for tampons at the pharmacy. For the first time. I was s-o-o-o embarrassed that I grabbed a whole bunch of other stuff that I _didn't_ need...just so I could hide the box behind it."

She nodded sympathetically. "Then what happened?"

"Well, unfortunately, the cashier was a guy. The item wouldn't scan, even though he tried several times. Finally, he got frustrated and held the box up, above his head...

Sam gasped audibly.

"...and yelled to the back of the store, 'Hey, Kevin! How much are these _Sometimes_ Super tampons?' And Kevin yelled back, 'What size?', so the cashier yelled, 'The extra large, hundred-count box!' There was a lo-o-o-ong line of people standing behind me, and almost every single one of them was staring...right at me...and I...I..._I_-."

"Oh my God, Carls!" she interjected. "My poor baby! So _then_ what did you do?"

Uncrossing my arms, I replied, "I prayed fervently for the floor to open and swallow me up. It didn't."

She reached over and took my hand again. "Look, tomorrow's Saturday and we're off from school...so we're going shopping. Our first stop is going to be the drugstore; and I'm going to buy you some tampons."

"Sam, that really isn't necessary," I pointed out.

"Don't worry," she replied, "It's okay. I have money."

I squeezed her hand and replied with a smile, "That's not what I meant...what I meant to say is...thanks, but I can buy my own tampons now."

She shook her head. "Carls, I'm still going to...so don't argue with me. I just wish I could have bought your _first_ box for you...to spare you all that agony."

And suddenly, I found myself speechless...

...as I realized that I had no absolutely idea how to respond to this offer. The entire conversation was so incredibly bizarre, yet so incredibly sweet...

...because I knew _why_ it was happening...

...because she loves me so much...

...and at_ that_ realization, I suddenly knew exactly how to respond. Leaning forward, I grabbed her shoulders, pulled her to me, and hugged her as hard as I could...

...laughing at the little squeaky sound she made as I squished the breath out of her.

She responded by wrapping her own arms around my back...

...but all too soon, she gently released herself and stood up. As I watched, she pushed the hamper back across the room and lifted its lid. Returning to where I sat, she said, "Kick your shoes off."

I did, and she immediately leaned down and removed my socks; and then she pulled my jeans off and looked closely at the inside of their slightly-stained crotch.

"These will be okay. They're black," she stated, tossing them dismissively across the room and into the hamper - with characteristic accuracy.

They were soon followed by my socks.

Immediately she turned back to me, leaned over. "Here, now give me these," she instructed...

...and I looked down...

...to see her removling my badly-stained panties.

As soon as she'd slid them over my raised feet, she walked over to the sink, opened one faucet, and grabbed the soap; and then, she turned back to face me. Nodding at the panties in her left hand she stated, very matter-of-factly, "Now, when _this_...occurs...it's important to wash them as soon as possible...and be sure to use cold water instead of hot; so the stain doesn't set."

_(Duh.) _

But even though I already had more than enough first-hand experience at washing period stains out of my underpants, I wasn't going to be sarcastic or rude...

...because I realized that, after hearing what I'd said on the roof about missing out on so much with my mom, she was just (endearingly) trying to fill in a few of the gaps. And at that moment, I loved her so much for it...

...and to this day, I still do...

...so how could I possibly _not_ let her?

And so, I replied 'gratefully', "Uh, okay. Thank you, Sam...for educating me on the subject."

She smiled broadly. "Anytime. But as much as I don't mind doing it, I really, really wish that it could have been your mom telling you this."

At that moment, I had to resist the urge to hop up off the toilet and hug her again. (I didn't want to drip on the floor.)

Turning back to the sink, she stepped over to one side so I could see what she was about to do; and then she proceeded to give me a detailed, hands-on, step-by-step, how-to demonstration of how to wash my panties.

I watched her in silent amusement, while trying not to smile (I didn't want her to think I was making fun of her) .

Once they were (surprisingly) completely clean, she laid them out on a towel, and before I could ask her to hand me a damp washcloth so I could clean between my legs (obviously, I was pretty messy), she turned away and walked over to the tub.

Before I continue...and for the record: The upstairs bathtub is my absolute favorite feature of our apartment.

Bushwell Plaza was originally built in the early 1930's, in the Art Deco style, as a luxury residence for some of Seattle's wealthiest families; and no expense had been spared. By the time my family had moved in, nearly eleven years ago, the plumbing had been replaced and updated; but fortunately, the original bathtub remains.

It's huge.

As she turned the taps on, I asked, "What are you doing?" even though I was fairly certain what her answer was going to be; but to my surprise, she didn't reply. Instead, she walked back over to where I sat and, with a smile, she finished undressing me.

Once I was completely naked, she slid one hand around my shoulders...

...and the other one under my knees...

...but I immediately leaned back away from her and announced, "Sam, thanks, but I can walk over to the tub by myself."

She ignored me.

Once she had carried me across the room and settled me into the tub, she knelt down beside it...

...wincing in pain as she rested her weight on her recently-whacked knee

Reaching over and taking her hand, which was lying on the edge of the tub, I asked, with my heart hammering, "Um, would you like to...get in with me?"

She shook her head.

"Are you sure?" I persisted.

"Y-yeah," she mumbled, averting her eyes.

Even though I really wanted her to join me, I realized that she was probably just as embarrassed as I was, so instead of pushing the issue, I lay back as she picked up the bar of soap; and then I watched silently, as she nervously passed it back and forth, from her right hand to her left...

...over and over and over.

Finally, she set it back down (clumsily) into the soap holder and, taking a shaky breath, she directed, "Sit up and I'll wash your hair."

As she leaned down, I reached toward her; and wrapping my arms around her neck, I allowed myself to be pulled up into a seated position...and then, leaning forward, I circled my knees with my arms while she crawled toward the removable shower head; swearing softly at the pain she felt...

...which must have been extreme because, at that point, she gave up completely on kneeling, got up off the floor and sat down on the edge of the tub.

As she did, I leaned forward and looked closely at her knee. It was already beginning to discolor, and I knew she was going to end up with a nasty bruise.

"Wow, that must hurt," I observed.

"Yeah, it's pretty sore," she admitted.

I nodded sagely, then asked, "Sam, do, you know the best thing for a bruised knee?"

She raised her eyebrows questioningly. "Ice?"

"No," I replied, "a hot bath!"...

...immediately reaching up, wrapping both arms around her waist, and dragging her unceremoniously into the tub.

"Carls!" she squealed as she landed on her butt; immediately looking down in shock at her now-drenched shorts and T-shirt.

"Yes?" I replied in my best approximation of an innocent tone.

"Don't you play unassuming with me, Miss Shay!" she answered indignantly. "You're a very naughty girl!"

"In your book, do naughty girls get punished?" I asked...

...hopefully.

Apparently, the joke was completely lost on her, because she immediately tried to get up...

...promptly losing her balance and landing back in the tub...

...while sending a wide sheet of water cascading over the edge, and onto the floor.

I laughed. "What's your hurry?"

She turned to face me. "Listen, Liar-" she began...

...but she soon stopped speaking...

...and as I watched, her annoyed glare dissolved; and then, after a long moment, the expression on her face changed again...

...slowly, yet unmistakeably...

...to one of overwhelming, pleasantly-dazed exhaustion...

...and she leaned back against the opposite end of the tub and closed her eyes. "Thanks a lot, Kid...now I don't feel like getting up."

"It_ has_ been a long day," I replied.

"I know. I could fall asleep right here," she admitted.

I smiled. "I thought you were going to wash my hair."

"Yeah. In a minute."

"Your minute's up," I soon observed.

"That's nice," she murmured distractedly...

...eyes still closed.

Scooching forward, and then leaning across and down, I (somewhat nervously) pressed my lips to hers; and just as she opened her eyes and sat up...

...I jumped back (brat that I am), and hastily retreated to my own end of the tub.

"Oka-a-a-y, you win," she agreed good-naturedly, and with a smile. "Well...as long as I'm _in here_. Turn around and I'll wash your hair."

Due to the tub's huge size, I didn't really need to stand up; so still seated, I turned away from her, reached up for the hand-held shower head, and then...

...I hesitated.

"It's okay," she said softly. "Come on."

And then, despite my nervousness, I slowly moved backward...

...as far as I could...

...until I was directly between her open legs. And as I sat there, I gradually and gratefully felt myself losing some of my self-consciousness, as she slowly - carefully - washed and conditioned my hair. Once she completed the final rinse and had set the shower head aside...

...we both hesitated.

She didn't say anything, but I knew she was waiting.

Waiting for me to be ready.

And suddenly, even though I really wasn't...

...I took a very shaky breath...

...and leaned back...

...gasping softly as Sam's arms encircled me...

...and slowly - yet steadily - pulled my naked body close to her.

As I settled back against her wet T-shirt covered chest, I heard her whisper, "Is this okay?"

Incapable of speech, I nodded.

"Don't worry, Carls," she said quietly, "I would _never_ try to-"

"I know you w-wouldn't," I agreed. Swallowing hard, I leaned my head back, resting it against her right shoulder; and, despite still feeling somewhat nervous...

...I closed my eyes.

"I love you," she whispered. "So much."

"Oh, Sam," I began, but soon stopped, unable to say more...

...because I didn't trust my voice enough to continue.

"Is...is the w-water temperature okay?" she asked.

"Perfect."

Her arms tightened around me slightly...

...and I enjoyed the ensuing long stretch of silence...

...lying back against her...

...feeling the way my body rose and fell repeatedly, almost imperceptibly...

...with every breath she took.

Finally, she asked tentatively, "Would you like me to wash your back?"

I didn't need to think it over.

With a nod, I sat up and leaned forward again; and less than a minute later...

...I felt her soapy hands caressing my shoulders.

After she had slowly and methodically worked her way as far down as she possibly could, she nervously picked up the bar of soap again and began to wash my arms. I leaned back against her to make it easier for her to reach; and then she gently took each of my hands, first my left one, and then my right, between my own and gently..._lovingly_ cleaned them.

Once she had finished, I sat...

...silently...

...patiently...

...listening to her quiet, yet rapid breathing, and then...

...I felt her trembling hand on my left shoulder; and, after much hesitation...

...I turned around.

She was biting her lip...

...obviously nervous and uncertain; and so, with a smile, I kindly took the soap from her. Leaning to my right, and reaching toward the towel rack which sat on the floor next to the tub, I grabbed a washcloth. "Close your eyes," I said softly.

With a little shudder she did, and she sat - quietly and cooperatively - for me while I slowly washed her face.

Carefully rising the soap residue away, I offered, "Would you like me to wash your hair too?"

She answered by turning away from me.

I took my time, making sure that I also massaged her scalp really well; and as I did, I watched in satisfaction as the hard lines of her incredibly tensed, angular shoulders softened slightly...

...which meant that she was beginning to relax.

Once I had finished conditioning, I rinsed her hair thoroughly and then, leaning forward, I asked softly, "Will you turn around for me?"

As she did - hesitatingly - I smiled at the way she was blushing. Seeing this, she turned her head away, and I took the opportunity to sneak a peek downward; noticing as I did, her semi-hardened nipples, clearly visible as they pushed forward, against the inside of her T-shirt.

Suddenly, she turned back toward me, and my eyes immediately snapped back upward.

I didn't want to embarrass her.

With a nervous smile, I handed her the soap and washcloth; but when I saw the look of uncertainty in her eyes, I did my best to hide my fear as I said softly, "Go ahead. It's okay."

Once she had carefully washed my neck - front and back - she soaped up the washcloth again...

...and we both gasped in unison as she slid it slowly down the front of my chest.

And then, as she began to wash my breasts...

...so gently that I began to wonder if she believed they were made of porcelain...

...she seemed to be losing some of her apprehension; so I reached down and, enclosing both of her hands between my own, I moved them away from me slightly...

...and took the soap and washcloth from her.

She looked up at me...

...obviously confused.

Tossing the washcloth to one side, I carefully and completely soaped up first her left hand, and then her right...

...and then, setting the soap aside, I took both of her hands in mine once again...

...and slowly...yet deliberately...pressed them against my breasts.

She froze momentarily, and as she did...

...her head dropped sharply...

...and from the way she closed her eyes...

...and the way her lower body lurched - upward and to the left - it was obvious that she'd just felt a contraction between her legs.

A sharp one.

And then, trembling, she raised her eyes to mine...

...and I nodded.

Sam's hands betrayed her extreme nervousness as they washed my chest...

...and, as I lay there, nervous myself, yet loving the way they caressed my breasts...

...I clearly felt a warm wetness between my legs that I knew had nothing to do with the bath water.

Finally, after washing both of my breasts, very politely...

...yet very, very, very, very, _very _thoroughly...

...her hands came to a stop, resting up on my shoulders. She swallowed hard, and then asked, "Cupcake, when's the last time you did a breast self-exam?"

My embarrassed silence answered her question.

"I know you're only seventeen," she continued, sounding slightly more self-assured, "but considering your family's uh...health history, I still think you should do it - every month from now on - just to be on the safe side."

"I guess you're right," I conceded. "But I think you're supposed to do it after your period ends."

"Well, yeah...I think so," she agreed. "But...has anyone ever shown you...how?"

I shook my head.

She exhaled shakily. "Well then...will you let_ me_ show you?" she asked tentatively.

I nodded. "Yes. I...I want you to."

Wordlessly and with a loving smile, she helped me turn around again; and seconds later, she was gently raising my left arm above my head...

...and then, bending my elbow, she carefully lowered my forearm...

...and_ then_, as I leaned against her, with my left palm lying flat against the back of my head...

...Sam took my right hand in her own and taught me how to examine my breasts.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked. "Because if we're being too rough-"

"No," I assured her quickly. "They're not sore right now...just a little sensitive."

"They do feel a little...swollen," she admitted, after she had gently palpitated them both. "I don't feel any lumps though."

"Neither did I," I agreed...

...feeling obviously relieved.

She nodded. "Still, to be on the safe side, I want you to promise me that you'll do this again, right after your period is over."

I turned around to face her once again; and suppressing a smirk, I replied, "Hmm...if I do, then what's in the deal for me...aside from the obvious?"

She leaned forward and answered my question...

...without words.

Pulling back, she said, "Cupcake, while we're on the subject of periods...and boobies...I'm guessing that you didn't have anyone to help you when you bought your first bra either."

Oh no.

More extreme coming-of-age embarrassment.

I lowered my eyes and shook my head.

Leaning back against her end of the tub, she added, "I didn't think so. So tell me...what happened?"

I sighed silently...

...actually somewhat relieved.

At least it's a much easier story to tell her than the 'period' one.

She sat in polite, attentive silence...

...waiting.

Taking a deep breath, I began, "Well, a few months after I got my period for the first time, while getting changed for gym classes, I started noticing that a lot of the other girls in the locker room were starting to wear bras. And then one morning, as I was getting dressed for school, I looked in the bedroom mirror and I noticed the way my...well, the way _they_ were poking forward against the front of my shirt; and I realized that it was time for me to buy some. Anyhow, there was _no way_ I was going to enlist Spencer's help on this one...not after the period fiasco."

Sam nodded...

...vigorously and understandingly.

I continued, "But I didn't have any idea what size to get...and I knew I was going to be too shy to ask anyone at the store; so one Saturday morning, I went up to our attic and found my mom's sewing kit. I knew there was a tape measure inside, and I just took my shirt off right there, and measured my chest; and then I went to the department store and took a whole bunch of bras into the dressing room...and eventually, I managed to figure it out on my own."

She smiled at me...

...but kindly.

"Still," I added, "it was really embarrassing to pay for them...even though I had been buying my own panties-

Sam covered her ears and screamed.

"...for the past several years."

Lowering her hands, she announced, "Tomorrow, right after I buy you tampons at the mall pharmacy, I'm taking you to Build-A-Bra. And _I'm_ paying."

I opened my mouth to argue but, as she raised her eyebrows...

...I shut it again; suddenly realizing that even though we'd been there together before...

...on more than on occasion...

...I _wanted_ her to _take_ me there tomorrow...

...and to buy me my 'first' bra.

She intruded on my thoughts suddenly by announcing, "The water's getting cold."

"You're right," I admitted, turning around and opening the 'hot' faucet. After some complex arm gyrations (which I couldn't possibly put into words here) to distribute the hot water evenly throughout the tub, I called over my shoulder, "Is that okay?"

"Perfect."

Turning the faucet back off, and knowing what was coming next...

...my heart began pounding as I turned around to face her again...

...and even though she was smiling at me reassuringly...

...I still shook nervously as I lay back against my end of the tub.

And then, after she'd taken a long, ragged breath; I saw her shaking hands grab onto both sides of the tub...

...and as I watched, she pulled herself forward.

Now sitting inches away, she hesitated for a moment; and then, slowly yet purposefully, her hands sank beneath the water...

...and, seconds later, I felt them curling under my knees...

...and then, lifting my legs...

...she slowly spread them apart...

...and then pulled me forward...

...and I felt my upper body sliding down into the water as she lifted my trembling thighs up onto her own.

We both sat staring at each other...

...neither of us moving, for at least a minute...

...until, finally, I reached over, picked up the soap and pressed it into her hand.

And then I lay back again and, scared as hell...

...yet absolutely_ aching_ for her to touch me, I closed my eyes.

After a very long pause, her hands came to rest against my upper stomach; but soon began shakily working their way downward, washing my abdomen; slowly moving lower and lower...

...and then, when they reached the lowest part of me that could still be considered my stomach...

...they stilled.

I opened my eyes to see her looking questioningly at me...

...but I was incapable of answering...

...and she was incapable of asking...

...and so, after several very long minutes had passed...

...her trembling hand held out the soap to me.

Blushing, I lowered my gaze...

...and then shyly shook my head.

She leaned over me. "A-are y-you s-sure?"

Slowly, nervously, I looked away...

...and nodded.

Heart hammering...I clasped my hands around Sam's neck and, looking up at the ceiling...

...I opened my legs...

...as widely as I could...

...and she slowly lowered her right hand between them.

After it had lain there, near the top of my thighs, for almost a minute, without moving in the slightest...

...I looked down at her and broke the silence. "Sam?"

She jumped slightly at the sound of my voice. "Y-y-yeah?"

"It's okay to breathe," I reminded her...

...and then, despite my extreme nervousness, I found myself smiling as she began gasping for breath.

A few minutes later, once she had begun breathing as normally as could be expected (given the situation), I looked back up at the ceiling, and closed my eyes again; and then, reaching down between my legs...

...I took hold of her wrist and slowly -_ nervously_ - moved her shaking hand forward...

...until it was touching me...

...and then, as I lay there waiting in breathless, nervous, silence...

...she began to move it.

After a minute or so of gently - yet clumsily - washing the outside of my vulva with her badly-trembling, soapy hand...

...I heard her breathing change...

...from nervous-ragged to terrified-ragged...

...and, knowing why it had, I tried hard to relax...

...yet failed spectacularly...

...as her generously-soaped-up fingers gently parted my outer lips...

...and slipped inside them.

And then, as I lay there, completely out of my mind...

...for any number of different reasons...

...her fingers began carefully, wetly, exploring and caressing.

Grabbing onto both sides of the tub to steady myself, I lowered my gaze slightly and sneaked a peek down at Sam...

...who was politely averting her eyes while she gently washed between my legs.

Such a gentleman.

Tilting my head downward, I whispered, "It's okay. You can look if you want to."

She did.

Once she had carefully washed every square millimeter of my vagina...

..no less than nine times...

...as I squirmed and gasped with rapidly-increasing arousal...

...I watched an expression of profound regret cross her face...

...as she reluctantly removed her hand from between my legs. Scooting out from under me, she began to wash my legs and feet; and the instant she had finished, I reached over and took the soap from her hand.

I wasn't cruel enough to allow her time to be afraid.

Sitting up, I laid the soap aside, and then - gently but firmly – I put both of my hands on her upper arms...

...and turned her around. Without hesitating, I carefully pushed Sam's T-shirt up to her shoulders...

...intending to leave it on her, at least while I washed her back...

...but much to my surprise, she lowered her head and, reaching down, she actually helped me pull it off her (easier said than done, considering how wet it was).

As she leaned forward and rested her chin on her knees, I wrung the shirt out and then tossed it across the room and into the sink.

She sat in cooperative silence, letting me wash her back, from her shoulders all the way down to her waist...

...and then she allowed me to wash her arms...

...and then her hands...

...and _then_, while trying my hardest to ignore the nervous, jumping sensation that was currently ricocheting off the walls in the lowest pit of my stomach, I leaned forward...

...and, as I wrapped my shaking arms around her waist...

...she let me pull her with me as I lay back against the wall of the tub; and seconds later...

...I settled back, in speechless rapture...

...with her incredibly tense, half-naked body in my arms.

And then, as we lay there, neither of us moving, I suddenly noticed that she seemed to have stopped breathing again.

"Are you okay?" I whispered.

"Y-y-y-eah."

My hands fumbled around near her stomach, until they found hers; and the instant they did, she clasped them in her own.

Tightly.

Sensing her fear, I suggested, "Let's just stay like this for a little while, okay?"

She nodded.

Tilting my head to the right and forward, I kissed her cheek. "Not until you tell me to...I promise."

She nodded again.

"And there's no hurry," I added.

No answer.

And I settled back, eyes closed...

...with her back pressed warmly and wetly against my chest...

...as I listened to the way she was struggling to breathe...

...both of us understanding that I was more than ready to let her take all the time she needed.

Maybe five minutes later...

...as I lay there...amazed that I actually felt her racing heartbeat tapping against my chest, through her back...

...suddenly, and without warning...

...she slowly released my hands and sat up.

Without a word and without hesitating, I put my left hand on her left shoulder...

...and carefully turned her around.

After guiding her toward the opposite end of the tub, I moved my hands to the back of her shoulders and helped her lie down...

...and then I reached over and picked up the soap.

And then, while looking directly at her, I pointed up at my eyes with my left hand...

...and as she watched, I deliberately closed them tightly.

I'd never heard her laugh that way before...

...so adorably and so nervously.

Keeping my eyes closed, I soaped up both my hands and then held them out to her.

Nothing happened for nearly a minute, but just as I was about to ask her if she needed more time...

...and to assure her that she was welcome to take as much time as she wanted/needed to...

...I suddenly felt her take hold of my wrists.

And then...so nervous that I forgot to wait to be guided...my hands shot forward immediately...

...rapidly...

...and soon collided with damp skin.

Hard.

"Ow, Carls! What the hell!"

My eyes flew open to see her rubbing both her cheeks.

"Oh God!" I gasped. "Oh, God, Sam, I'm such a...such a...damn it! Help Me Out Here!" I finished...

...lamely...

...and completely flustered.

She stared back at me...

...equally stunned. "Well...wow, I don't know...what's an appropriately vile word to call you for the way you just assaulted me?" She paused for a moment. "Hmm...I'd call you _Lewbert_...but, after seeing what you're capable of, I don't want to get _brutally beaten_."

Too numb to realize the magnitude of her intended insult...

...let alone be pissed off at it...

...I gasped, "I-ya-ya-yam _s-so_ sorry!"

Removing her hands from her aching cheeks, she smiled at me reassuringly; and then, lowering her eyes, she held out her arms; and without hesitation...

...I crawled forward and into them.

Seconds later, I felt her hands on my back as she pulled me to her.

"Are you...sure you're okay?" I asked, incredibly concerned...

...because, believe me, I'd hit her _hard_.

"Shh. I'm okay..._we're_ okay," she answered quietly.

And then, as I lay with my cheek - and body - pressed against hers, I felt her left hand down near my right one...

...fumbling for a bit, but finally succeeded in pressing the bar of soap into it.

I grabbed onto both tightly. "Are...you sure?" I asked.

She nodded. "Yeah. Do it now. While I'm still reeling from the blow."

With a self-conscious laugh, I pushed myself up and off her...

…laughing even louder at the sucking sound our bare chests made as they broke contact; but I soon stopped...when I saw how nervous she still looked.

"It's okay," I whispered. "Just close your eyes."

She did.

"Oh yeah, _and _breathe," I reminded her.

And then, with her eyes closed, and gasping for breath, she lay completely still, as I carefully - and very, very, very politely - washed her neck...

...and then the front of her shoulders...

...and then her chest...

...and then her stomach...

...stopping with my hand resting on the button at the top of her shorts.

Her eyes flew open...

...and there was absolutely no mistaking what I saw in them.

Leaning down I said in a low voice, "Please trust me. I swear I would never do anything to hurt you."

She looked back at me...

...so obviously afraid that it made me want to cry.

"Please," I whispered...

...very very gently. "You can say 'stop' anytime you want to...and I'll stop. Immediately. I promise."

And then I waited in silence...

...for God knows how long...

...as I stared down at the very noticable ripples in the bath water, caused by her badly-shaking body.

Just as I was about to tell her (while fighting to keep the aching disappointment out of my voice)...

...that I didn't mind if she wanted to wash _herself_...

...she bit her lower lip...

...hard…

...and then, very, very slowly...

...she nodded.

And seconds later, she gasped as she felt my trembling hands on her lower stomach...

...fumbling with her zipper.

Once I had managed to open it, she willingly lifted her hips for me, and I gradually managed to wrestle her soaked khaki shorts over them, and then down her legs. Setting them aside, I looked down, slightly intimidated...

...at the huge red dragon on the front of her bright yellow boxers. Swallowing hard, I reached forward with shaking hands and hooked my fingers into the top of both sides of the waistband...

...expecting her to grab my hands at any moment, and to shove them away from her.

But she didn't.

Once the boxers were off her body, I grabbed her khaki shorts too, wrung both pairs out together, and then flung them in the general direction of the sink...

...not looking - or caring - where they landed; and then, as I leaned forward, she closed her eyes...

...silently granting me permission to look.

I did...

...having my first close-up view _ever_ of the complete length of her beautiful legs...

...and at the neatly-trimmed patch of finely-textured, silky blonde at the top, where they met.

Immediately and automatically, my body lurched forward and downward; without any conscious direction on my part...

...and I rested my cheek against hers. "Oh, God, Sam...Oh, God, you're so beautiful!" I breathed.

At that moment, her arms tightened around my neck...

...and, losing my balance, I fell down on top of her...

...and then, face to face, our naked bodies connected...for the very first time.

I'm not sure how long we lay there wrapped in each others arms, with absolutely nothing between us; but finally, I pulled my head back and looked at her questioningly...

...and then, without shifting her gaze from the ceiling...

...she nodded.

Raising my body slightly, and leaning directly over her, I laid my palm against her cheek and very gently lowered her face until her gaze met mine. "I promise it's okay," I whispered. "Nothing bad is going to happen."

Without answering, she closed her eyes; and then, reaching down, she fumbled around until she found my hand...

...and then, after more than a minute's hesitation, she placed it on her lower abdomen and covered it with her own.

I leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Not until you're ready. I promise."

Nearly two full minutes later...

...she slowly moved her hand off mine, and reaching out with both hands...

...she gripped the edges of the tub.

Tightly.

I was determined to be polite as I washed her vagina, no matter what happened...

...and I'm very proud to say that I was...

...during the entire five minutes!

But, according the way her back was arched...

...and the way her hips were shifting...

...and the shallow way she was sort-of-breathing...

...she really seemed to be enjoying herself...

...a conclusion further confirmed by her quiet little sigh of disappointment the moment I (finally and reluctantly) withdrew my hand from between her legs.

I looked down into her face. Her eyes still closed and, wondering what she was thinking, I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers...

...just for an instant. Seconds later, she opened one eye a fraction of an inch, and as I smiled down at her...

...her hand was suddenly on my right cheek, her head was tilting forward, and her lips were on mine again.

As much as I wanted to, I didn't linger there. It had been an exhausting day...

...for both of us.

I smiled at her warmly, but her eyes were now closed again; so, giving her a final peck on the lips, I reached down into the water with both hands. After locating the soap, I washed first her right leg and foot, and then her left...

...finally taking the big toe of her left foot between my right thumb and forefinger.

Her eyes snapped open as I began, "This little piggy got detention...

"...This little piggy failed Math...

"...This little piggy had a ham sandwich...on a crusty ciabatta roll...with mayo...and provolone cheese...and lettuce...and tomatoes...and onions...and Dijon must-

"_All right! All right! Get on with it!"_ she demanded. _"You're making me hungry!"_

"Of course, Darling. Now where was I-oh yes...This little piggy got food poisoning, because she ignored the expiration date on the mayonnaise jar...

"_Yeah!"_ she yelled,_ "And This little piggy barfed her guts up...all over Carly's brand new bedspread!"_

I laughed. "Whatever! And This little piggy cried, 'Fuck off, Benson...or I'll kill you _and_ everything you love!'"

"_Well, at least that one is completely accur-CARLS!"_ she shrieked.

I was tickling her foot.

Yanking it away from me, she immediately flew straight up and out of the tub; and as she did...

...I watched half the water that was in it fly out with her...

...and then my attention turned to her cute little shiny pink butt, as she sprinted across the room and grabbed a yellow towel.

After drying off, she wrapped it around her waist, leaving her breasts completely bare (no complaints here); and then she picked up a dark blue towel, walked back over to me, and held out her hand.

Reaching up, I grabbed it...

...and she helped me out of the tub.

She dried me carefully, paying special attention to the area between my legs; and then, she headed back to the vanity and picked up the tampon she'd left there earlier.

As I walked over to her, she turned to me. "Cupcake, you never did answer my question about these...do you think you can put one in yourself...or...or..."

Staring down at the floor, I faltered. "Uh...could you please...show me how?" I asked...

...realizing that I wanted to feel her pushing something...

.._almost anything at this point_...

...up inside me.

Right Now.

Her hands were shaking as she unwrapped it...

...and as she lowered it down toward my crotch. And once she had, we just stood there...

...neither of us moving.

I couldn't look at her...

...so I just nodded.

She leaned over and kissed my cheek. "It'll be fine," she whispered. "Just put your arms around my neck."

I did, and then - trembling - I took a step closer.

She looked up at me, and I nervously raised my eyes to hers.

"Cupcake, I'd...I'd ask you to tell me when you're ready...but I don't want you to...uh-" her voice trailed off.

"It's okay...I don't want to start leaking either. J-just...g-go ahead."

"Close your eyes for me," she directed.

I did.

"Don't worry," she whispered, "I'm going to be really, really careful."

"I kn-know."

"Okay, now tilt your hips forward for me," she requested.

I did.

"And open your legs," she added.

I did...

...and then, as I stood there, holding onto her for balance...

...and not looking...

...I promised myself that I'd remain completely calm...

...but gasped loudly...

...as the fingers of her left hand gently parted my outer lips...

...and even louder still...

...as I felt the end of the cardboard applicator sink between them and, seconds later, gently press against the entrance to my vagina...

...shifting around several times before settling into position.

She hesitated.

"It's ok-k-kay. G-go ahead. Before I s-start to lea-_uh_!" I gasped, flinching sharply...

...as she carefully, yet rather quickly, pushed the applicator up inside me.

I have to give her credit...

...she had angled it so precisely that it's trajectory was flawless, and it slid into me with ease...

...and with absolutely no discomfort.

And then, without waiting for further invitation...

...she slowly, yet steadily pushed the plunger upward...

...and I felt the tampon exit its applicator...

...and enter my vagina.

And knowing that _she_ had been the one to put it inside me was such a turn-on...

...that my vaginal walls grabbed onto the empty applicator...

...hard...

...so hard, in fact...

...that its exposed end slipped from her fingers.

She fumbled around between my legs for a second until she found it...

...and then, as she withdrew it from my vagina, I opened my eyes...

...just in time to see her fling it into the wastebasket...with her usual precision.

She walked over to the sink and washed her hands, and then she picked my clean panties up and returned to where I was standing. "Put your hands on my shoulders," she directed.

I did, then lifted first one foot, and then the other, stepping into my panties.

She pulled them up halfway, and then she stopped. "Uh, do you want to wear a pad, too? I saw some under the sink."

I shook my head. "No! I hate those things! I only wear them when I run out of tampons."

She looked at me in confusion. "Aren't you worried about stains?"

"Not now," I replied, and then added, tongue in cheek, "not since you've showed me how to wash them properly."

Looking down and nodding, she pulled them the rest of the way up for me and then looked back up at me...

...confused. "Still, Carls...they're white; in fact, all of your underwear is. Don't you have any, uh...uh..."

I raised my eyebrows. "Any..._Period Panties?_"

"Argh! Stop that! For the love of God! I'm begging you!"

Ignoring her, I said, "No, I don't have any. But do you want to know _why _I always wear white silk pan-oomph!"

She nodded.

Removing her fingers from my lips I continued, "When I was little, my mom used to let me help her with most of the housecleaning. She always said I did a good job, but she especially praised my laundry folding skills...she called me the most awesome laundry assistant she ever had."

Sam smiled.

"Anyway," I continued, "one day I was folding her white silk pan-oomph!"

Removing her fingers from my lips, I continued, "Anyway, I told her how pretty they were, and asked her if I could have some of my own. This was before she got sick. I know I must have looked disappointed when she said she didn't think they made them in children's sizes, because right then she promised me that someday, when I was a little older, we'd go shopping together, and that she'd buy me some."

Sam nodded slowly. "So, is that what you were saying on roof...when you mentioned going shopping with your mom?"

"Yes," I answered simply.

She put her hands on her towel-covered hips and stared down at the floor...

...deep in thought. When she did look back up, she said, slowly and somewhat hesitantly, "While we're out tomorrow, I'm going to buy you some."

"Really? White silk ones?" I asked, barely able to contain my excitement...

...or my surprise. I mean, Sam..._My Sam_...buying girly underwear? How exciting/bizarre is that? Five minutes prior to this revelation, I'd have gladly and confidently bet you a hundred dollars that she wouldn't even be caught dead within a fifty-foot radius of any Ladies Lingerie department.

The sound of her voice yanked me back to the here and now.

"Yeah," she confirmed, "uh...I'm going to...uh...at that uh...place at the mall...uh...two doors down from Glitter Gloss."

I smiled. "You mean at...The_ Panty_ _Emporium?_"

"A-r-r-r-r-rgh! Stop That!" she yelled...

...as loudly as she could.

I opened my mouth to answer...

...but what I was about to say, she never found out...

...because her lips were now on mine...

...and seconds later - _and_ - without breaking contact...

...she picked me up in her arms and carried me out the door, down the hall, and into the bedroom.

Setting me down carefully on the bed, she walked to the 'Sam' drawer of my dresser, reached inside and found some random clothes; and then, dropping her towel, she pulled on clean, sky-blue boxers, a pair of well-broken-in gray twill shorts, and a white T-shirt with a pirate ship motif on the front. And then, for some reason that I will never know, she also put on a belt. (Maybe it was an additional line of defense...she still looked rather nervous).

"Do you want a nightshirt?" she called across the room.

I shook my head.

With a nod, she walked over to the bed, sat down on it, scooched back, and then leaned against the headboard.

I just sat there smiling at her shyly...

...like a complete idiot...

...for more than a minute.

Finally, she held out her arms, and I crawled over to her...

...and climbed back onto her lap...

...and, as she pulled me close, I rested my head on her shoulder.

I love it when she holds me.

"Now where were we, Cupcake?" she asked.

"The uh, Period Talk," I reminded her.

"Oh, yeah. So, do you have any questions?"

"Not really," I answered...

...sighing quietly as she began to rock me.

She nodded, apparently satisfied. "Okay, but if you ever do have any, you can ask me...okay? I''ll always be here for you."

"I will. I promise," I murmured into her shoulder.

After a few minutes, she suddenly stopped rocking me. "Carls?"

I leaned back...

...to see her looking back at me with a Most Serious Expression on her face.

Not good.

She took a deep breath. "Cupcake, now that you've started getting your period..._and_ you have boobies...it means you're becoming a young lady. So it's very important that we have...a little talk."

"Oh, no, Sam!" I gasped, _"Not_-"

"Yes Carls...it's time for us to talk about _The Birds And The Bees_."

I covered my face with my hands. "Oh God," I began, "this is so unnec-"

"It's for your own good," she announced, moving them away.

"Sam, no! Please don't make me!"

"As I was saying," she continued (ignoring me completely), "even though you may be embarrassed about this, we most definitely need to discuss it."

I rolled my eyes in disbelief. "We_ did_ discuss it," I reminded her. "In health class...remember?"

Shaking her head, she continued, "Carls, there are certain things that every girl is entitled to, and one of them is a one-on-one, private-yet-open, thorough discussion of-"

"Okay okay!" I retorted...

...entirely too loudly. "We'll discuss it..._Again!_"

"Shh. There's no reason to get upset," she replied, "It's not going to be_ nearly_ as bad as you imagine."

"That's highly debatable." I countered.

Ignoring me (again), she reached forward, pushed my hair off my face, and then said gently, "Now, let's start by discussing your sexual history."

"I'll let you know if I ever have one," I shot back.

She frowned. "Carls, don't be a wise guy...now _Spill_. Uh..." she continued, correcting herself, "...what I mean is...is there anything you'd like to tell me..._Darling?_"

"I'm uh...still a virgin," I admitted...

...cringing.

She nodded approvingly. "Okay..._And?"_

I was stumped. "And_ what?_ What else is there to tell?"

"I think you know the answer to that question," she announced...

...raising her eyebrows.

Oh, no.

OH. NO.

"Sam! Don't make me say it!" I begged.

"Come on...tell Mama," she insisted.

Recoiling in horror, I shook my head violently.

"Come on," she urged, trying to pull me closer to her.

I resisted. "No! I don't want to!"

She reached down and took both my hands in her own."Come on, Baby, tell me. You know Mama loves you."

"But...but..."

"Come on, Carls," she persisted, "...you need to be completely, totally, one hundred percen-"

"Okay, okay! Fine!" I yelled, staring up at the ceiling in exasperation.

Silence.

I looked down...

...to see her looking back at me.

Waiting.

Fervently wishing that I was now at the dentist's office...

...getting each and every one of my teeth drilled...

...deeply...

...rather than in the situation where I currently found myself, I took a deep breath. "Uh...I occasionally...you know..."

"Say it, Carls."

I sighed.

Sometimes the best way out is (unfortunately) _directly through_.

And so, caving in completely, I admitted, "Okay, I occasionally like to, uh, engage in...self-service."

"You like to whack off."

"Wow Sam, Shakespeare had nothing on you!"

She reached down to tickle me...

...but I was expecting it and, expertly blocking her hands, I trapped them between my own.

After a long and high-spirited struggle (she let me win(!), she withdrew her hands from mine. "Come on, Cupcake. Let's be serious for a minute."

"Okay," I agreed, and then wrapping my arms around her neck, I stated, without any hesitation whatsoever, "I love Sam, and I want her to be The One. And I know she loves me. And that makes me happier than I ever dreamed it was possible for me..._for anyone..._to ever be."

At that moment, one corner of her mouth twitched, and then, as I watched, she began blinking rapidly. Finally, after releasing a long, shaky breath, she said, while sounding strangely brusque, "Well, if this 'Sam character' loves you as much as you claim she does-"

"I'm sure of it," I stated immediately and with finality.

Sam nodded. "Well then, if that's the case, she'll wait for you. For as long as you want her to. Okay?"

I nodded, and then, yawning, I leaned forward and lowered my head onto her shoulder.

Seconds later, her hand was in my hair...

...caressing gently. "Tired, Cupcake?"

"Completely worn out. It's been a long day," I murmured.

"Nap?"

"If I do, w-will you stay with me?" I whispered...

...and with a smile, she lay down and held out her arms.

XXXXX

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the lit display on my bedside alarm clock.

12:18 am

Turning my head on the pillow, the second thing I saw was Sam, lying more than a foot away from me...

...sleeping contentedly...

...and I realized that we had separated because neither of us is used to sleeping with anyone.

But that's not what woke me up.

What _did_ was something else.

Something horrible...

A/N: Hi, Spyder! I'd like to reply to your reviews but I can't, since they're anonymous. If you have the time/inclination, please contact me via the email address on my profile page, letting me know how I can get in touch with you. (Please _do not_ attempt to do so in a review, since this site is notorious for deleting any/all email addresses and links from messages.) Thanks.


	7. Chapter 7

Oh no.

Oh, God, no.

Not again.

Not tonight!

Oh, God!

My sobs woke her up.

Without opening her eyes, she inched her way across to where I lay and murmured, "Carls? What's going on?"

"Sam...it's...it's-"

Eyes still closed, she pulled me close to her and mumbled into my neck, "Mama's here, Baby. Tell me, what is it?"

"I f-feel...awful!"

Immediately, her eyes snapped wide open. "Wh-what's wrong?" she asked in alarm as her hand flew to my forehead. "You don't feel like you have a fev-"

"N-no, it's not that," I gasped, "...it's r-really h-horrible cramps!"

Immediately, she sat bolt upright; and as soon as she let go of me, I curled into a ball...

...with my arms folded tightly across my badly-aching stomach.

"What? You do?" she asked.

Nodding, I closed my eyes...

...as I tried - and failed - to will away the sensation of being viciously kicked - repeatedly and hard - in my lower abdomen.

Sam was silent for a moment. "Do you want me to get you some Advil?"

I shook my head. "No. I've tried using it in the past...but it doesn't help...nothing does!" I moaned, as my body suddenly curled up more tightly...in an involuntary response to the rapidly-intensifying pulsating spasms of pain.

Sam reached over and put a hand on my shoulder. "Come on; lie flat on your back for me, and let me rub your stom-"

Pushing her hand away, I sobbed, "I c-can't! Oh God, it hurts so bad!"

I opened my tear-blurred eyes to see her looking down at me with concern. "Carls, I know you said you get cramps...but not like _this_."

"I don't get them every month," I whimpered, "but when I do...it hur-ur-urts!"

Her hand moved upward, and she began stroking my hair. "Carls, are you sure they're normal period cramps?" she asked, adding, after a moment's hesitation, "Do you think that maybe it could be...something else?"

Rocking back and forth on my left side in a futile attempt to alleviate the pain, I gasped, "L-like w-what?"

She leaned down and pushed my hair off my face. "I'm not sure," she said slowly. "But maybe you should...get it checked out."

My jaw dropped. "You d-don't m-mean...?"

She nodded. "Yes, Cupcake. I think you might need to see the gynecologist."

Fighting back the urge to bawl, from agony _and_ from fear, I gasped, "No! N-ot that!"

She reached for my hand. "Shh. It's not as bad as it sounds."

"I don't want to!" I insisted.

"What's the big deal?"

"Look who's talking! You've never been either!" I reminded her.

"Well, no," she admitted, "but..."

"I'm not going! I don't need to! I'll be fine!" I said belligerently...

...while lying blatantly.

Sam shook her head. "Look, for you to be in this much pain isn't normal. I'm sorry, Cupcake, but I have to insist. First thing in the morning, I'm going to call and make you an appoint-"

"No!" I yelled, immediately trying to convince her that I wasn't really suffering...

...by stretching out flat...

...despite how horrendously it hurt.

Less than five seconds later, I was curled up again...sobbing.

Reaching down and laying a hand on my cheek, she asked, "Why are you fighting me on this?"

"I...just don't want to," I repeated.

"Are you...are you scared?" she asked.

"_I just don't want to!" _I shouted.

"I _know_ you're afraid, Carls. I can read you like a book."

I didn't answer.

I was too busy praying for relief.

It didn't come.

Sam reached over and patted my shoulder. "Don't worry about anything; I'm going to go into the doctor's office with you. Mama will be right there, standing right next to the examination table, holding your hand through the entire-"

I didn't even hear the rest of the sentence...

...because I was too distracted by all of the horrifying visuals that began forming in my head...

...but as vivid as they were, they did nothing to take my mind off my gut-wrenching pain...which actually seemed to intensify with each new, terrifying thought.

And so, even though I knew she was right, and that I should see a doctor...

...fear won out completely. "No! Don't make me go there! I don't want to!" I yowled.

Sam immediately leaned down and tried to put her arms around me but (while still in the fetal position), I rolled away from her and over onto my right side.

Without hesitation, she crawled to where I was lying; and taking hold of my shoulder, she turned me back to face her and; as I lay on my back, she reached down to my stomach and placed her hands over mine.

She took a deep breath. "Carls, there are some things every girl is entitled to, and one of them is to not have to face the gynecologist - all by herself - on her very first vis-"

"No! I won't! There's no way!" I answered stubbornly through gritted teeth.

"Yes, Carls. You're going," she stated flatly...

...and at that moment, something in her voice scared me senseless.

Her mind was made up; and I knew that, no matter how determinedly I resisted, she was going to make me go.

Soon.

And I realized that it was time to negotiate.

Hard.

I took my hands off my badly aching stomach and grabbed onto both of hers...tightly. "Sam...if I feel better in the morning, then can I_ not_ go? Sometimes my cramps don't last long at all." (For the record, I sometimes have them for nearly a full day...but I wasn't about to admit it at the moment.)

Total Silence.

She was thinking it over.

"Sam..._Please!_" I begged.

"I...don't...know," she said slowly.

"I'll be okay...honest! I just need a little..._ow!..._time!"

She stared down at me...

...highly skeptical...

...as I hastily wrapped my arms around my midsection again, and doubled up as tightly as I could...

...trying my hardest to ignore the stabbing pains that were currently lacerating my insides.

A moment later, she opened her mouth to argue again...

...but closed it again when she saw the way I was looking up at her...

...silently pleading.

She hesitated for a long moment and then said, "Well, we'll see. And right now...let's see if there's anything we can do to get rid of them, okay?"

Desperate for relief, I nodded without hesitation.

"Will you let me help you?" she asked.

"Y-yes."

"Okay. Come here," she said, reaching down for me.

"But.._.but-_" I began to protest.

"Shh" Sam said.

"But I don't..." I continued.

She shook her head...

...and in response to a particularly sharp stabbing ache, I obediently wrapped my arms around her neck as she reached down; and then, putting one hand on my shoulder and the other on my knees, she slowly began to uncurl my body.

"OW! No! I can't!" I yelled, sitting up immediately...although that also hurt; but done out of desperation to do_ anything_ to avoid stretching out flat...which I was completely incapable of at the moment.

The moment I had leaned forward, Sam put a hand on my shoulder and gently pushed me down onto my back...

...as I immediately pulled my knees up to my chest...tightly. "What are you doing?" I asked, despite knowing full well what she had in mind.

"Stretch your legs out," she directed.

"I can't!" I wailed.

"Yes I can if I try," she replied encouragingly, putting one hand on my upper chest and the other on my knees.

"Sam, no..._OH, GOD!_" I yelled...

...as she gently - but firmly - pushed them in opposite directions and laid me out flat.

"Oh no...oh please," I sobbed, as crushing waves of agony ripped angrily in protest through my midsection.

"Shh. Come on, Carls, let me try to help you," Sam said quietly...

...and I squeezed my eyes tightly against my full awareness of the vicious hell that was raging in the lower part of my torso.

"Just try to focus on your breathing," she said.

I tried as hard as I could to do as she directed, but it was no good; so instead I focused on trying to fight back my sobs at the excruciating pain I felt.

I failed...

...and even though my eyes were tightly shut, tears were soon coursing freely down both of my cheeks.

A moment later, I felt Sam pulling my panties down past my hips and placing her hands on my lower abdomen.

And as she began to gently caress my stomach, I could no longer remain silent. It hurt too badly.

And she listened with an expression of genuine remorse on her face as I alternated between sharp cries and moans at the pangs that were ripping through my uterus as she concentrated on caressing my swollen abdomen.

She said nothing; but suddenly, desperate for something - anything - to take my mind off my own suffering, I asked between sobs, "What about_ you, _Sam? What do you do when you have cramps?"

Hands still moving, she took a deep breath. "Well...I uh...have my own way of dealing with them," she admitted.

"How?"

"By uh...whacking off," she mumbled, turning her head.

Suddenly, a huge wave of pain caused me to pull my knees up sharply and roll away from her, uttering, "Oh, God! Oh, God..._why does it hurt so much?"_

She leaned over and gently turned me onto my back again; and, knees still up against my chest, I raised my eyes to hers.

She bit her lip for a long moment and then, looking directly into my eyes, she asked, "Carls? When's the last time you uh...had an orgasm?"

Horrified at the question _and_ at what her response would be if I answered it, I immediately dropped my gaze and said nothing.

Long stretch of silence.

"Cupcake, has it been...awhile?" she asked gently.

Covering my face with my hands I nodded, way too embarrassed to admit that aside from the orgasm that I'd slept through a few years ago, I'd never really had one before.

She didn't answer, and curious, I lowered my hands and looked over to see her staring down at the mattress, apparently deep in thought.

A minute later, she looked up at me and said, "Well then, my theory is that your cramps might be due to...congestion...and more than one kind. On one hand, you might have clots that your uterus is trying to push out through your cervix. That's the usual cause of cramps. But on the other hand, between your grandad visiting _and _us not being able to do the show for so long_ and_ uh, everything that you and I have been through lately...you've been under an incredible amount of stress. Plus, earlier this evening, you got uh...all worked up...and then we uh, didn't do anything about it."

I looked away - highly embarrassed - and then nodded.

She stared at me in silence for almost a minute, and then she said, very matter-of-factly, "Now, I have to ask you some very personal questions."

I shook my head violently. "No! No more personal questions! I've been answering them all night and I'm not in the mood right now...I feel horrible!" I reminded her.

"Carls?"

Slowly, I turned back and looked up at her.

"Do you want me to help you?" she asked.

"Yes!" I answered without hesitation.

"Then you need to talk to me."

I opened my mouth to argue...

...but immediately changed my mind. The pain was now completely unbearable; and desperate for _any_ kind of relief, I gave in. "Okay. G-go ahead."

She reached over and took my hand. "You said that sometimes you like to engage in...what did you call it..._self service?_"

Avoiding her penetrating stare, I nodded.

She continued, "Does it ever happen that sometimes..." she hesitated, "...that sometimes you can't...finish what you start?"

Mortified, I nonetheless answered, "Yes."

She bit her lower lip and then asked, without really looking at me, "Um, when you _do_ uh, whack off, have you ever had any, uh, electronic assistance?"

As she turned back to face me, I shook my head.

She looked at me without answering...waiting for the rest of the story.

"No...just my hand," I finally admitted.

She nodded. "The reason I asked is because, few months ago, while I was borrowing tampons, I uh, noticed something in the bathroom cabinet that might help you...more help than you can get from just your hand."

I turned my head away in embarrassment (again).

She gently turned it back to face her. "Cupcake, at least consider it...or try again with your hand. Having an orgasm might actually help you. It works for me."

I knew she was right, but still, I hesitated.

I didn't want our first time together to be like this.

I wanted my first orgasm with her to be from us making love together...all night long...not from some fast, desperate, pain-filled, whack-off session. And even though she'd had her hand between my legs just a few hours earlier in the bathtub, the thought of doing this with her while I was bleeding, made me feel incredibly self-conscious; so, despite my current state of agony, I answered, "I'm sorry. I can't."

She frowned. "What's wrong?"

I looked away. "I just...can't."

"Why not?" she insisted.

"My...period."

She reached over and lay a hand on my shoulder. "It's not that big of a deal."

"Sam, I don't want to..."

"Because?"

"...I'm...embarrassed."

"Carls, I know you're in a lot of pain."

I turned to face her. "It's_ embarrassing_, Sam!"

She shook her head. "You think it's something I've never seen before? We have exactly the same plumbing."

"I'm sorry. I just can't," I said with finality.

She nodded slowly...while looking at me regretfully...obviously disappointed that I wasn't going to take her advice...

...and that I was going to continue suffering as a result.

Pretending not to notice her expression, I reached down and pulled my panties back up.

And then, without a word, she lay down behind me and curled her body around the back of mine - in the 'spoon' position - and put her arms around me.

I focused hard on my breathing, and after a few minutes, my cramps felt like they were actually beginning to lessen slightly.

At that point, I spoke up. "I sorry, Sam. I just can't."

"Shh. It's okay. I understand," she replied, reaching down and slipping her left hand inside the front of my panties. I moved my knees away from my chest slightly to make it easier for her to reach, and seconds later, she was rubbing my stomach again...

...and the pain momentarily and mercifully subsided...ever-so-slightly.

Within minutes, her hand slowed noticeably, and I knew that she was drifting off to sleep. I tried hard to do the same, and it actually seemed entirely possible, as the pain seemed to lessen a bit more; so I closed my eyes...

...and wondered what Sam thought about when she was masturbating.

Eventually, her hand stilled completely and I lay listening to her breathing quietly and evenly behind me, as I tried to distract myself from my cramped-up pelvis by visualizing Sam and myself - just the two of us - lying on a deserted, wind-swept beach...

...in the quiet lull of late afternoon...

...as the sun was sitting low on the horizon...

...and Sam was leaning over me, smiling...

...and I turned my eyes from her...

...and looked toward the water, just as...

...a huge wave (of white-hot pain) slammed into me, and the overwhelming, gut-wrenching spasms of it caused me to convulse so violently that Sam immediately jerked awake.

"Cupcake? Are you...oh my God...are you _crying?_"

"Oh God...oh, God, Sam! It hurts so bad!" I moaned, dropping my chin onto my chest and lurching repeatedly at the vicious, stabbing sensations that were mercilessly assaulting my lower abdomen.

She sat up and leaned over me, looking down compassionately. "I know it hurts, Cupcake. I know it does," she replied in a low voice; while trying to get her hand back down between my stomach and my thighs...which were, once again, tightly pressed up against it. I would have moved my legs to make it easier for her...

...but I couldn't unbend, not even slightly.

"I...I just want it to_ stop_!" I wailed.

With an understanding nod, she tried - and failed – to turn me over onto my back. Leaning down once again, she said, clearly worried, "Look, if it hurts that bad, then maybe we should go to the Emergency Roo-"

"No! Not that!" I insisted stubbornly, despite the fact that even conversation was now painful.

She frowned, obviously wracking her brain for a solution. "Well, you said told me earlier that Advil doesn't work; so...can I make you some hot tea?" she offered.

As the severe pangs that were destroying my lower stomach area suddenly escalated to 'agonizing', I started crying in earnest.

"No! I don't wan-Oh, God! Just let me die!" I wailed...

...and I heard her gasp. She immediately vaulted over my body, to other side of mattress, and looked down at me in alarm. "That's it! The minute the King Street Medical Complex opens in the morning, I'm taking you straight there...and telling them it's an emergency...and that you need to see a gynecologist right aw-"

"No!" I yelled, "I'm not go-uuuhhh!" My protest was cut off abruptly as several new waves of horrendous convulsions tore through my lower abdomen and left me, gasping for breath, and I pushed my tear-streaked face deeply into the pillow. "Please, Sam! Please make it stop!" I begged.

I felt her hand on my shoulder. "Will you let me help you, Carls?"

"Yes! I'll do anything! I promise! Please, Sam..._Please!_" I bawled.

She slid a hand between my cheek and the pillow, and turned my face to hers. I blinked the tears out of my eyes and, as her blurred features came into partial focus I heard her say, "Look, I know you're embarrassed to try what I suggested before, but would you at least reconsider-"

I nodded immediately...

...realizing and accepting that I was now completely unwilling and completely unable to fight her anymore.

She bent down and hugged me. "Good girl. Everything is going to be okay. When you have cramps, this can really help."

I grabbed onto her tightly. "Yes! Please! Anything! Just make it stop...just..._help m-OW!_" I cried...

...as blindingly-painful seizures launched another agonizing attack on my uterus.

"Okay, let's take care of this...right now," she said, and as I whimpered in fearful anticipation, knowing that she was about to make me lie flat again...and set off another brutal wave of hell, she turned me over onto my back and lowered my legs onto the mattress...

...as I barely managed to suppress a scream.

Seconds later, I felt her sliding her hand down between my thighs; but then, as she gently pushed my legs open...

...embarrassment and fear shot through me again, and changing my mind instantly, I clamped my thighs around her hand. "No! I can't! I don't want to!"

"Carls, look at me."

I did...

...reluctantly and with effort.

She took a deep breath. "I know you don't want to. But I'll make a deal with you. Have one. If it works for you and it ends your cramps...then I won't make you go to the gynecologist. I promise. Okay?"

I hesitated; but seconds later, another surge of pain ripped through my insides and forced me to reply, "Y-yes."

Sam - with difficulty - managed to remove her hand from between my legs and then she got up from the bed and left the room. She soon returned with a dark bath towel and a confused expression. "When I was in the bathroom, I looked in all the cabinets, but I couldn't find the...you know-"

"It's uh, under the bed," I gasped, in way too much pain to retrieve it myself.

She nodded and then crouched down. After finding it, she sat back down on the edge of the mattress and said, "You...told me you never used-"

"I didn't," I assured her. "I wanted to...and tried to a few times...but I was always, uh, interrupted."

"Oh."

She was silent for a bit, and seemed to be trying to figure out what to say next. Finally, with a little shake of her head, she picked up the towel again and folded it twice.

"Lift your hips for me," she directed.

With effort, I did, and she slid it under them.

Glancing over to the door and then back to me, she asked, "Do you want me to leave?"

I grabbed her hand. "No! Please stay with me!"

With a nod, she picked the massager up, plugged it in, and then she slowly held it out to me.

I shook my head.

Long stretch of silence.

"Are you sure, Carls?"

I nodded. "Sam?"

"Yes?"

I wiped my streaming eyes on my forearm. "You know this is my..." I faltered.

"First time with a girl?" Sam asked gently.

"W-with anyone," I admitted.

"I know it is. You told me earlier, remember?"

At that moment, I didn't have energy to waste on trying to remember _anything_...because the agony was unbearable. "Please help me," I moaned.

She nodded and sat down beside me. I reached over and grabbed her free hand.

"Sam, there's s-something else I have to tell you."

"What?"

I lowered my eyes and answered...highly ashamed, "No matter how hard I try, I've...never actually been...you know..._able to_."

She gently lifted my chin; and as I looked into her eyes she smiled understandingly and answered, "That's okay. We're going to _make sure_ that you can now."

And without hesitation, she bent my knees and put my feet flat on the mattress.

Seconds later, she slid her hand between my legs and gently pressed her palm against the inside of my left thigh. Desperate for relief, I immediately opened my legs and Sam reached between them with both hands and began gently caressing the insides of both my thighs.

I closed my eyes.

She responded to this by saying, "It's okay, Carls, I won't even look."

"Please Sam, please help me!" I begged, near tears again.

With her hands still gliding up and down the insides of my thighs, she whispered, "Okay,"...

...and then I felt her hair tickling my bare chest as she leaned down and kissed me.

Relieved to have something to distract me from the riveting pain in my pelvis, I began kissing her back...

...enthusiastically...

...and I gasped as she slid her left hand slowly upward...

...and it soon reached the top of the insides of my thighs...

...which suddenly tightened around it as I felt my whole body go rigid.

My lips left hers as I exclaimed, "Oh God...this is so horrible!

She pulled back and looked at me. "The pain? I'm sure it is, Car-"

"Not just that!" I interrupted. "Sam, I love you so much...and I want us to be together...and to take our time. And to do this..._the right way!_"

She nodded immediately. "I know, Cupcake, and I feel the same way. I want our first time to be special too." She was silent for a moment and then added, "Don't worry; no matter what happens right now, this doesn't count as our first time, okay?"

"R-really?"

"Of course not! I promise! Do you trust me, Carls?"

"You know I do," I moaned, my mind now off her kisses and back on my cramps.

"Then open your legs for me," she said gently.

I hesitated and, after a very long moment, I relaxed my thighs.

Seconds later, I felt her pulling my panties down.

And then, while I lay holding my breath, Sam switched the massager on, turned its dial to the lowest setting, and slowly lowered it between my legs.

She hesitated...

...but seconds later, I winced loudly at a particularly brutal cramp stabbed its way through my badly-swollen uterus...

...and in response, she immediately spread my outer lips apart with the fingers of her free hand and positioned the massager against me...

...directly against the left side of the top of my clitoris.

And I lay there...

...in silence...

...waiting and praying for relief.

At first, I didn't feel much of a difference. My vulva had spasmed once at the initial contact from the vibrator's wedge-shaped head, but - probably due to my riveting pain - I wasn't feeling particularly stimulated otherwise.

That soon changed.

Less than a minute later, I tore my attention away from my lower abdomen as I felt the change that was beginning to take place much further down. My vulva seemed to be responding to the dull vibrations that were massaging it, because I definitely felt it beginning to swell.

And then, I felt the first sharp contraction between my legs.

It was soon followed by another...

...and then another...

...and then, beginning with the next one, the contractions were no longer in my vagina...

...they were in my lower pelvis...

...adding to the twisted ripping and stabbing that was already in there...

...and the pain of it made me shriek.

Sam leaned down over my chest. "It's going to be okay; just hold onto me."

Without hesitation, I reached up and grabbed her...

...as tightly as I could...

...as the frequent and agonizing contractions from my steadily-escalating arousal became indistinguishable from my vicious cramps...

...both of which ripped through my lower abdomen with an indescribably-brutal intensity...

...as my insides screamed for relief from the penetrating, savage pounding on my uterus.

It hurt so badly.

Now crying freely, I closed my eyes against the unbelievably-sharp, stabbing spasms...

...not wanting her to see my tears, or to know the full extent of how profusely I was suffering.

But finally, I just couldn't take the tortuous, relentless beating any more. "Sam! Stop! _Please!_"

She immediately pulled the massager's head away from my vagina, and looked down at me without speaking.

"I can't! It hurts...so much worse!" I gasped.

She nodded slowly. "I'm sure it does, but uh, I _really_ think you should uh, finish anyway."

"I can't!" I insisted, _"I absolutely can't take how much worse it hurts now!_"

She exhaled shakily, and then paused, seeming to be choosing her words carefully. "Still Carls, I think it will help you. Having an orgasm is such a release...and it always works for me when I hav-"

"Please, no more! I can't!" I sobbed.

With an understanding nod, she removed it from between my legs and turned it off...

...and I rolled over onto my right side and struggled to catch my breath, as I waited for the spasms to become slightly less severe, now that my arousal had been interrupted.

But they didn't.

If anything, they were now becoming steadily worse...

...even though, as evidenced by the damp, insistent throbbing just inside my outer lips, my aroused state wasn't subsiding at all.

What to do? Try to wait it out and feel even more agony...or try to go forward and feel even more agony?

Clearly a no-win situation.

Terrified that an orgasm would be the more painful option of the two, I soon decided to try to wait it out; but before ten minutes had elapsed, the pain in my pelvis had increased almost to the point of making me dizzy and nauseous; and I started crying...

...hard.

Sam had remained silent through all of this...obviously unsure of what to say or what to do; but as soon as she heard me crying she leaned over and asked tentatively, "Should we...try again?"

I hesitated. I was guaranteed a lot more agony no matter what I decided.

She continued, "I think it will really help you to-"

Moments later, as an indescribably-agonizing spasm attacked my lower midsection, I grabbed myself and screamed, "Sam!"

Seconds later, she had pulled me up to her, and I cried against her chest...

...not just from the latest wave of excruciating pain...

...but because I knew now what I had to do.

And I had never been so scared.

"S-sam...Y-y-yes!" I cried in desperation.

Still holding me close, she asked, "Are you sure you want me to...help you have one?"

I shook my head violently against her. "N-no." I paused...screwing up my courage, before gasping, "I w-want you to..._m-make me!_"

She pulled back and looked at me...

...in stunned silence.

"Sam..._Please! I just can't take...I-_" I broke down again.

She nodded and seconds later, she was lowering me onto my back again.

I put up no resistance as she pushed my legs back down and laid me out flat...

...despite the searing pain it caused.

She picked the vibrator up and leaned over me. "The second you tell me to stop, I will. I promise."

Reaching up, I grabbed the front of her T-shirt with both hands. "No, Sam! Promise me you won't stop...not at all...no matter how hard I beg!"

Her jaw dropped slightly. "Carls, you_ know_ I can't do th-"

"Please! I have to finish this time! I absolutely can't take this pain anymore!" I wailed, as the next forceful wave of cramps launched another cruel, punishing attack on my uterus.

"Carls, I'm sorry but I can't prom-"

"Promise me!" I demanded.

"But..."

My hands still holding her shirt tightly, I shook her as hard as I could. "S-s-sam! _Please!_" I practically shrieked...

...desperate for relief.

A long moment passed in silence, but finally, with a look of great regret, she agreed.

"Yes, Carls, I promise."

She reached for the massager and turned it back on to 'low' with badly-shaking hands, and as both of my hands left her shirt and gripped the sheet tightly...

...she lowered it between my legs again, and spreading my outer lips open with her free hand...

...she pressed it firmly against the left side of my clitoris.

Almost instantly, I regretted my decision.

Despite this, I tried to stick it out...

...while the contractions of my arousal joined forces with my punishing cramps once again, and hammered my lower abdomen with a brutally-unrelenting intensity

But less than a minute later, I had reached my breaking point. Even though there was a chance that an orgasm might bring me some relief from this unbearable hell, I just couldn't take it anymore.

"Sam, No! I've changed my mind!"

She shook her head. "Shh, she consoled in a low voice. "I know it hurts, but just hold onto me. Not much longer, and then you're going to be fine."

"No I'm not! I can't! I have to stop!" I insisted.

"Shh, Cupcake. Only a few more minutes and then everything is going to be oka-"

"No, it's not! I need to stop...now!"

She looked down at me...

...obviously conflicted. "But...you told me to keep going...no matter what you said!"

"I don't care what I said! I can't!"

I saw the profound sadness in her eyes as she answered, "You need to finish...and you begged me to promise you that I'd make sure you did! And I did promise! Besides, we both know that it'll only get worse again if we stop!"

"Please, Sam...stop it!"

She shook her head regretfully. "Don't worry. In just a few minutes you're going to feel-"

"I can't wait! No!"

"Yes! You have to! You made me promise!" she reminded me.

Frantic, I tried to sit up, but she moved her free hand to my shoulder and pushed me onto my back again.

Now terrified, I started to struggle under her. "Sam..._Stop It!_"

"I can't! You know I can't!" she insisted, her voice shaking badly.

Now desperate and in agony, I reached up and grabbed the front of her shoulders; and before she could recover from her surprise, I managed to push her up off me a few inches.

Seconds later, she realized what I was doing and, shifting her body weight, she regained her leverage again; and as she leaned over me I realized to my horror, that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't move her again...not even an inch.

"Sam, no!"

She didn't answer...but as I looked up, I saw her lower lip trembling.

She was clearly near tears.

I tried again to push her off me, but I couldn't...

...because the second I tried to, she suddenly lay her entire body weight across my chest; forcing me to confront the atrocious, unending pounding that was destroying my lower abdomen.

Now frantic, I tried to close my legs...

...but she suddenly shifted her body again and thrust her knee between them.

"Sam, no!" I screamed, now pounding on her back with my fists. "Stop it! Get off me!"

"I can't stop! You told me-"

"Stop it! Now! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" I shrieked. But then, as I twisted my head to my right in agony...

...I heard her crying next to my ear. "I can't, Carls! I can't!" she sobbed.

"Sam please! I can't even cum! I'm trying so hard but it's just not happening!"

Seconds later, her free arm moved slightly, and just as I was thinking she was about to stop...

...she reached down and turned the massager dial up to 'high'...

...and the pain was suddenly, blindingly, screamingly intolerable.

And worst of all, I realized that all my remaining strength had cruelly deserted me...

...and that I was completely powerless to fight against the pain - or against her - anymore.

I honestly thought I was about to die.

Not only could I not push her off me now, not even a fraction of an inch...

...I couldn't even raise my arms.

I tried harder but couldn't...

...because suddenly, my entire body was completely paralyzed...

...and as it stilled, even though every muscle in my body was so tightly compressed that it seemed impossible for them to contract and cramp up more...

...I was gradually overwhelmed by the beginning of one huge, drawn out, agonizingly-unbearable contraction...

...which began at both the tops of my thighs and the bottom of my lower abdomen...

...and slowly spread out both upward and downward...

...burning my muscles with its white-hot fire...

...and once it had reached my feet and head...

...my vagina began to tighten...

...igradually, yet steadily.

Sam must have realized what was happening to me because she immediately moved off my chest, and wrapped her free arm around my shoulders, steadying me...

...as my hips jerked violently and involuntarily up off mattress.

And then, with my back in a high arch, I came.

Hard.

So hard that I didn't know whether I was screaming or crying...

...only aware that I was completely helpless...

...as my body suddenly seemed to have been gripped by a huge pair of invisible hands...

...which shook me ruthlessly...

...as spasm after violent spasm crippled my body...

...penetrating all the way to my core.

After nearly a minute of this vicious abuse, I gave up on fighting it...

...because at that moment I was entirely powerless.

Powerless to resist...

...powerless to stop it...

...powerless to beg Sam to make it stop...

...while my body lurched up and was flung back down...

...repeatedly and relentlessly ...

...until I absolutely could not take anymore.

And then, just as I began to pray for death, I felt a new wave of sensation flooding my body...

...as the spasms of pain that were ripping through it gradually morphed into spasms of ecstasy...

...which cascaded through my entire body in waves of profound release.

And then suddenly, my hips slammed back down onto the mattress...

...but I realized that I was far from finished...

...as I lay there - still paralyzed - feeling the new contractions that pulsed through me...

...gradually massaging my muscles as they rippled through them...

...and suddenly I became very aware of the sensation of wetness leaking between my legs...

...as warm liquid spurted out of me, not once, but several times...

...in (surprisingly) a very pleasant sort of way...

...wetting both the towel that was under me...

...and the insides of my thighs...

...and even though I had absolutely no idea whether it was cum...or urine...or part of my menstrual flow, I knew that it was due to the massive release of painfully-pent-up congestion that was leaving my body.

And, loving the way it felt...

...I welcomed it...

...and to my absolute amazement, I had no embarrassment whatsoever that it was happening right in front of Sam.

Inn fact, at that moment, I had no embarrassment about anything.

And no stress about anything...

...and no physical pain whatsoever...

...and no control over any of my muscles either...

...only knowing that I never wanted the sensation to end.

But, sadly, it did...

...and then, suddenly the massager was gone; and seconds later, I looked over to see Sam turning it off.

And at that moment, my body stilled...

...as every last shred of stress and pain left my body and sank down into the mattress...

...leaving me forever...

...and leaving me completely wrung out.

And then, as I watched, Sam set the vibrator aside...

...and, without warning, her body came hurtling over onto mine.

Balancing on her hands and knees, she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me so hard.

Neither of us spoke...

...as I lay there wondering why my entire body felt heavy and immobile, and if I'd ever be able to raise my arms to put them around her. With effort, I managed to pull my stomach in tightly, and to my immense relief, I realized that I felt absolutely no pain at all.

It was profound relaxation...

...and I had never experienced it before...

...but it was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

Suddenly, I was completely distracted from my new, amazing state of feeling...

...when I realized that Sam was crying. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...but you told me I _had_ to!" she sobbed into my ear.

And then, with a gasp, I remembered how horribly I had just spoken to her. "Sam...shh. I'm so sorry for what I said! I don't hate you!"

"I...I kn-know," she replied. "I'm sorry for m-making you! But you m-made m-me promise!"

Finally, with Herculean effort, I managed to raise my arms and I pulled her close to me "It's all right, Honey. I know I did."

My words did nothing to calm her, so I reached up and began to stroke her hair. "Shh. Don't cry. It's okay. Everything is okay."

"Y-you're not m-mad at m-me?" she whimpered.

I tightened my arms around her again. "Of course not. I'm so glad that it happened...and that you're the one who did it. I'd only be mad at you if you had _stopped._"

She leaned back and looked at me...

...with tears running down her cheeks. A-are you s-sure?"

I nodded.

Taking several shaky breaths, she forced herself to stop sobbing...

...and then, as I smiled up at her, she suddenly seemed self conscious that I had witnessed her crying, because she hastily pulled her T-shirt up and wiped her eyes.

"Are y-you okay?" she asked tentatively. "Did it...help?"

"Very okay...that was...so..._incredible!_"

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Definitely," I assured her, pulling her head down onto my chest...

...and stroking her hair...

...and within minutes and to my relief, I felt her body relax.

"I'm glad you liked it," she said suddenly.

"I promise you I did," I assured her.

Seconds later, she raised her head again and looked up at me; and then said, smiling suddenly, "Well, that's good, Cupcake...because there's more where that came from."

I looked back at her in confusion. "Where that came from...what do you mean?"

My question was soon answered by the sound of the massager being on again...

...but as she lowered it, I immediately reached down between my legs and blocked her hand.

"Sam, no!"

"Yes. Once more."

"I can't!"

"You _have to,_" she replied.

I flinched in surprise. "What? No! No way! Besides, my cramps seem to be gone now, so-"

She shook her head. "Once more. To be on the safe side."

"I can't!" I insisted, "I'm so completely-"

"Once more," she interrupted. "Remember how painful your cramps were? You don't want them to come back...and neither do I," she stated flatly, as she pushed the massager further up between my legs...

...but before it had reached my vagina, I restrained her hand again. "But I _can't!_"

"Once more."

"But I _can't._.."

"Once more."

"Please, Sam, I've never..."

"Once more."

"Please, Sam no! Please don't make me!"

"Once more."

"I can't! I've..._never_-"

"_Once More_," she insisted, gently moving my still-resisting hands aside...

...and then, gently parting my outer lips, she pressed the massager's head against me once again.

And I knew that there was no escape.

She was going to make me.

_Again._

Scared, yet too exhausted to put up a fight...I wrapped my arms around Sam's neck.

Fortunately, it didn't take long.

"I love you Carls..._so much,"_ she whispered...

...as my body slowly began to climb once again...

...as I suddenly realized that I absolutely _did not_ have the stamina to endure another orgasm...

...and I replied - terrified - Sam...I can't do this!"

"You're going to feel so much better," she answered.

I shook my head. "I _already_ feel-"

"Shh," she interrupted. "You haven't really had one before...and your cramps were so horrible. Remember how much pain you were in? You don't want them to come back, do you?

"No! I don't! But I_ can't-"_

"Shh. You'll be fine. Just hold on to me," she answered in a low voice.

I did.

And then, less than a minute later...

...my body stilled again...

...and realizing that there was no stopping what was about to happen...

...I gave into it...

...fearfully yet completely.

"Oh Sam, oh my God!" I yelled as it took complete control of my body.

"Shh. I've got you."

"I a-a-a-a-a-a-a-_AH!_"

"That's it, Carls. That's my girl. Don't fight it. Just go wherever it takes you."

"A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-_AH_!" was the only response I could give...

...considering that the earth-shattering tremors that were violently shaking my body were also rattling my brain...

...making intelligent thought...not to mention any sort of conversation...totally impossible.

But this orgasm...while just as exhausting as the previous one...was entirely different.

This one was pure pleasure...

...and as my muscles pulsed with release...

...I suddenly gasped as I felt an abundance of warm wetness dribbling out of me once again.

"S-sam! I'm leaking..._again!" _

"Shh. It's fine...I promise," she answered reassuringly...

...and somehow, I knew that she was right...

...and I gave into the ensuing pleasure...

...as _whatever it was _spurted out of me again...

...over and over.

Is this how guys feel when they ejaculate?

Because it felt _so_ wonderful.

And then, just as I realized that the towel under me was becoming dangerously wet...

...and that, due to the extreme ordeal my body had just been through (twice), I probably wouldn't regain any use of my motor skills for at least six weeks...

...Sam turned the massager off...

...and I closed my eyes as my muscles drained themselves of every last shred of accumulated stress.

The instant my convulsions subsided, I felt Sam's body touching mine as she pushed my hair back and kissed me.

I opened one eye a crack...

...as she smiled down and asked, "So...how are your cramps?"

I smiled exhaustedly up at her. "What cramps?" I asked...

...and she leaned down and wrapped her arms around me.

Some time later, I broke the silence. "Sam?"

"Hmm?" she murmured.

"Thank you...for this. For all of it."

She leaned up and looked down. "How could I not...after all the unselfish things you've done for me?"

And with a smile, I reached up, dragged her down on top of me, and enfolded her in my arms again.

Several minutes later, she released herself, and sitting up, she put her hands on my knees and gently opened my legs.

I let her.

After a long assessing glance, during which she kindly ignored how furiously I was blushing, she climbed off the bed. Reaching down, she unplugged the massager and picked it up.

"Be right back."

I nodded.

She left...

...and I lay there, without a care in the world, listening to the sound of water running in the bathroom down the hall.

Sam soon returned, with the now-clean massager under one arm, and holding a towel and a damp washcloth in one hand...

...and one of those horrible, huge pads in the other. But as much as I hate those things...

...so much that, on any other occasion, I would have flatly refused to wear it...

...I had a feeling that, because of what I felt between my legs at the moment, I really needed it.

Sam grabbed a pair of clean panties from the dresser and sat down next to me.

"Open your legs for me," she directed...

...and as I did...

...she saw me looking at the pad in her hand. "Sorry Cupcake, but you need one. After what I jus-"

"It's okay," I said quickly...not wanting her to elaborate.

To this day I don't know what came out of me that night, and I didn't ask.

Somehow, I just don't want to know...

...only to remember the way it had felt.

She smiled down at me in a comforting sort of way...

...and I closed my eyes while she slowly and carefully washed me.

Finally, she picked the pad up and unwrapped it. "My God...this thing is _huge!_"

I opened my eyes. "I know."

She frowned. "Didn't you read the box before you bought them? Something this monstrous should come with a warning label!"

I rolled my eyes. "Actually, I didn't buy them. They were a gift from Spencer. Apparently, they were on sale while he was shopping that day. Anyway, without a word, he handed them to me...looking all proud of himself that he was 'man' enough to buy them."

Sam laughed as she attached it to my panties.

And then, as she slid them over my feet she said apologetically, "I know how much you hate wearing these things, but from what I just saw you really shoul-"

I held my hand up. "It's okay. _Really_."

With a nod, she pulled my panties up, and reaching down between my legs, she pressed the horrible thing against me.

I reached down and adjusted it; and then clamped my thighs around it, trying to squish the sides in so it would feel slightly less uncomfortable.

Finally I gave up.

It was impossible and so, ignoring it, I turned my attention elsewhere...

...to something far more important.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

Sitting up, I reached over and grabbed the massager. "Your turn."

Her jaw dropped, followed by a long stretch of stunned silence.

"Uh, you don't have to," she finally replied.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "Why not?"

She shrugged. "It's just..."

"Just what?" I asked...persistently.

"I don't know..." she mumbled, suddenly becoming fascinated by the late night sky on the other side of my windows.

But I wasn't about to let her off the hook. "Hmm...you seem nervous...first time?" I teased.

She turned back to me. "If you'll forgive me for not answering that question, I'll forgive you for asking it."

Successfully resisting the urge to laugh, I repeated, "I'm still asking."

"Carls!"

"It's only fair...you asked me," I argued.

She remained silent.

I sat looking at her expectantly.

"Sam?"

No response.

"Well?" I prompted.

"Well, what?" she asked (knowing full well what I was referring to).

"Is this your first time?" I asked pointedly...

...as she blushed furiously. "Um, well, does self-service count?"

I (finally) laughed. "No...and I'm _waiting_."

She leaned forward. "Hey, Carls, is that a new necklace?"

I leaned backward. "Sam, stop being evasive. You haven't answered my question."

She looked down and shrugged.

"I'll take that as a yes," I replied with a smile...

...as I reached over and, putting my hands on Sam's shoulders, slowly pushed her down onto her back.

She put up no resistance, but just as I reached for the vibrator again, she put her hand over mine.

"No."

I frowned. "Why not?"

I reached for the vibrator again, but before I could grab it, Sam moved it across the bed and shook her head.

"Sam..._come on!_"

"No, Carls."

"Why not?" I demanded.

She paused for a long moment. "Because...because tonight it's all about yo_u."_

"No, Sam! That''s the lamest excuse I've ever-" I began...

...but she shook her head. "Thanks, Carls...but I'm beat," she replied; and then, before I could protest further...

...she lay back down with her left arm across her eyes.

"Sam?"

There was no response.

And with a sigh...

...I gave up.

For now.

Since her arm was blocking her eyes...

...she didn't see me as I leaned down and kissed her goodnight...

...and she also didn't see me reach across to my nightstand and set the alarm for two hours later...


	8. Chapter 8

The alarm woke me up promptly at 4:15 am. However, as expected, it had no effect whatsoever on Sam; so after shutting it off, I leaned over her and asked softly, "Sam? Are you awake?"

No response.

No surprise.

I reached over and switched my table lamp on, and then I leaned back down and kissed her forehead before pulling back and saying, in a somewhat louder tone, "Sam?"

No response.

No problem.

Sitting up, I took hold of both her shoulders, and then I shook her...

...vigorously. "Sam?"

No response.

And no idea what to do...

...but then, suddenly inspired, I reached over and began to unbuckle her belt.

That did it.

Immediately, her eyes snapped wide open, and her hands were suddenly grabbing mine as she flew straight up into the air. "Good Morning, Cupcake!" she yelled.

As her butt landed back on the mattress, I laughed. "Well, it's not quite morning yet."

"Whaddaya mean?" she asked, flashing a broad smile...

...with disappeared the instant she looked past my shoulder and saw the alarm clock display.

"Aw man! You're kidding me! Why'd you wake me...up seven hours before my usual time?" she demanded.

"Well, you see-" I began...

...but apparently, at that moment, she was incapable of waiting around for my answer, because she suddenly blurted out, "Oh no! Gotta pee! Be right back!" and then, flinging her body off the bed, she tore out of my room and down the hall.

After a few minutes spent waiting patiently, I heard the distant sounds of flushing, and then water running, and finally, the bathroom door opening, but Sam didn't appear until several minutes later...

...walking into the bedroom with a huge box of shortbread cookies in one hand, and the half-full pitcher of iced tea from last night's dinner in the other (she'd made a detour to the kitchen.)

Normally, I always forbid her to eat in my bed (to avoid getting crumbs in it), but given my immediate plans for her, which hinged largely on her being_ both happy and_ _full_, I decided to make an exception...

...even though she was obviously about to drink straight out of the pitcher!

After settling back into bed, she held the box of cookies out to me, but I shook my head...

...and sat leaning back against the headboard, watching her while she ate, and trying to determine my next move; because after all, last night she had rejected my advances...

...but why?

After examining the situation at length - and from all angles - I decided that her reluctance had been the direct result of me being too pushy; and that a much gentler, more subtle, and gradual approach was needed...

...and less than two minutes later, I knew exactly what that approach should be.

After knocking off most of the cookies, Sam seemed to be in considerably better spirits than when I'd awakened her; and setting both the box and the now-empty pitcher aside, she fell down onto her back and lay there, watching me while I sat lost in thought (a/k/a strategic planning).

After a few minutes of total silence and non-acknowledgment of her presence, she asked me, "What are you thinking?"

Having once read somewhere that people value what they have to work for, I decided not to make things too easy for her, and so I shook my head.

With a puzzled frown, she sat up and turned to me. "Come on, Cupcake; whatever it is, we should to talk about it...and I'm here for you. You know you don't have to be shy or embarrassed."

I paused for nearly half a minute (for dramatic effect), and then answered 'reluctantly', "Are you _sure_ you want me to tell you?"

She nodded vigorously. "Of course I do. You know how much I love you, so there's _nothing_ that we can't discuss."

I turned to her and answered with a broad smile. "You don't know how happy I am to hear that!" Taking a deep breath, I reached over and held her hand. "Sam, due to your mom's uh, _unique __personality, _I'm pretty sure that you haven't had your..."

Another dramatic pause...

...as she stared at me, obviously confused, before asking, "My what, Carls?"

I looked at her with my most serious expression. "Your _Period Talk._"

At that moment, her hand flinched sharply within my own and, quickly suppressing her initial expression of stunned shock, she waved the idea away with her free hand. "Don't worry about that, Car-"

"Sam? _Have you?" _I asked pointedly.

"Well, no," she replied quickly, "...but-"

I held up my free hand. "Which probably means that your mom wasn't even there with you the first time you got it."

I watched in amusement as she shifted uneasily, and then I continued, "And, since you've never had _The Talk_, you and I are going to have it...right now."

Her jaw dropped. "But...but..._but-_" she spluttered.

I gave her hand a squeeze. "Don't worry, Honey; everything's going to be fine. Now, I want you to tell me about your first period."

"Carls! _No!_" she exclaimed, now looking clearly alarmed.

In a very matter-of-fact tone, I stated, "Sam, there are certain things that every girl is entitled to..."

"_Oh, God, No!_" she gasped.

"...and one of them is _The Period Talk_," I announced firmly.

She squirmed in embarrassment. "Cupcake, this so so unnecessary!"

I looked at her and said gravely, "Sam. It_ is._"

Stunned, she fell onto her back and grabbed the edge of the mattress...tightly. "No it's not! I don't want to!" She yelled, clearly unwilling to submit without a fight.

Ignoring this last outburst, I continued, still matter-of-factly, "You and I are going to discuss this right now...together...just two of us-"

"This isn't happening," she moaned, as I reached over and pulled her into a seated position...

...and then up onto my lap.

With one arm around her shoulder, and the other under her knees, I pulled her close to me; and looking into her eyes, I said kindly, "I'm sorry I wasn't there your first time to reassure you. Now I want you to tell me what happened."

Staring at me - wild-eyed - she shook her head violently in protest.

"Sam, what's wrong?" I asked. "Just a few hours ago, you were discussing this subject openly with me...remember?"

"Well, y-yeah. But this is different," she declared.

"How is it different?" I asked.

"It's...it's..._embarrassing!_"

"And you think I wasn't embarrassed?" I pointed out.

"Well, my story is...more embarrassing than yours!" she exclaimed.

"How is that possible?"

She rolled her eyes. "Your story only involved your brother. Mine involved a cast of thousands!"

I laughed. "Sam, somehow I doubt that!"

She didn't respond, so I put both of my arms around her shoulders, and turned her upper body slightly to face me. "Come on," I said in a low, calm voice. "I know how much you love me...because you did the exact same thing for me earlier. Please let me show you that I love you just as much."

Trembling, she looked down without answering...

...and I started to rock her.

Soon, she leaned forward and put her head on my shoulder, and I urged gently, "Come on, Honey, you don't have to be embarrassed. Just tell me about your first time."

No answer.

Leaning over, I kissed her forehead, and then pulled back and looked into her eyes. "Please?"

She dropped her gaze and I pulled her close to me again. "Sam, I know that it's hard for you to talk about girly subjects...and that's why I love you so much...because you put your embarrassment aside and had this discussion with me earlier. You know that I understand exactly how you feel right now...don't you?"

I felt her nod against my shoulder.

I turned my head and nuzzled her cheek. "And believe it or not, after we've discussed this, you're going to feel _so _good...just like I did. It felt like something missing had been added to my life...and it made me feel so loved, Sam."

At these words I heard her sigh, and I gently pulled her away from me. Placing my hand under her chin, I lifted her face and looked into her eyes. "Please Honey? Tell me. It's such a nice feeling afterward."

Silence.

But by the expression on her face, I could tell that she was thinking it over.

I waited patiently...ready to let her take all the time she wanted, but suddenly blushing profusely, she managed to utter, "Well, I...I-

She stopped speaking abruptly and buried her face in my shoulder again.

"That's it," I said softly. "Just tell me."

She swallowed hard, and after a very long pause, she nodded, leaned back slightly, and then continued, "Well, I woke up one morning...and the bed was red."

I looked into her eyes and smiled. "Good girl. So It started while you were asleep? And it leaked onto your sheets?"

She lowered her head adorably and bit her lower lip. "Y-yeah."

"Well, better there than at school," I pointed out with a smile.

She nodded slowly before continuing, "Mom was out on a uh,_ very long date_..."

"Which meant you wouldn't be seeing her anytime soon." I added...

...and after a short pause, she took a deep breath; and as she exhaled, I felt her relax a little in my arms.

"Yeah," she admitted, "and I _had_ to go to school that day, because she'd found out that I'd skipped twice the previous week. Unfortunately, she had never told me anything about this...or planned for it...or bought me any uh..._stuff, you know?"_

I nodded understandingly, relieved that she was finally able and willing to open up; and since she was sort of on-a-roll now, I decided to interrupt her as little as possible.

"So what did you do?" I prompted gently.

Turning an even darker shade of 'embarrassed', she continued, "The only feminine hygiene products we had in the house were a box of mattress-sized pads, left over from when Mom had her hysterectomy."

"Oh no!" I gasped...

...as I became aware of the only (very unhappy) direction that this story could now possibly take.

Not looking at me, she continued, "I...put one on...and it was the most _horrible_ feeling!"

I pulled her to me in an empathetic hug. "Oh, I know, Sweetheart...I know exactly what you mean!"

I paused for a moment – confused - and then leaned back to look at her. "But how did that..._work?_ Didn't it fall out the side of your boxers?"

She shook her head. "Back then, I hadn't started wearing boxers yet. Anyway, once that awful thing was in my underpants, I looked like I had a..._huge_ _dick!_"

I bit back a laugh. "Bad visual," I announced...

...and she nodded solemnly. "I know. So anyway, for camouflage, I ended up wearing a hideous plaid skirt to school...and you know how much I hate them!"

And suddenly, I froze, stunned...

...as it all came rushing back to me.

"Oh, God, Sam!" I gasped. "I remember that day! _And_ that skirt! During lunch break, most of the kids sitting near us made fun of you for wearing it; and I, in my sixth grade immaturity, joked that 'maybe you _are_ a girl after all'...and you ran out of the cafeteria."

At these words, she squirmed in embarrassment and her hands flew up to her face.

Taking hold of her wrists, I gently lowered them and then added, "And then, after looking all over the school, I finally found you out behind the dumpster in the parking lot, sitting on a couple of empty milk crates, and you had been crying. I apologized for what I'd said, but you never told me what was wrong."

I paused for a moment. "Sam, I'm really, really sorry. If I had known you were trying to hide your pad bulge-"

She shook her head and said slowly, "It's okay, Carls; I'm over it. And you _did_ try to make up for it the next day by telling the kids who made fun of me that it wasn't as skirt, it was a kilt; and that Puckett is a Scottish name. "

"It isn't?" I asked, surprised.

"Uh, no," she replied...

...and now enlightened, I asked, "So what happened after that? Did you tell your mom you got your period...or did you just keep using those gigantic pads?"

She squirmed on my lap at the memory. "Well, even though I absolutely hated them, I ended up wearing them at night to save money, until the box was gone."

I nodded understandingly...

...and then she continued, "But after what had happened at school, I decided that during the day, there was no way I was gonna get caught dead wearing one-"

"Wearing one _what_?" I interrupted, "Pad or skirt?"

"Either," she announced with determination. "And even though my mom never told me anything about...well, about _anything..._I knew about tampons from magazine ads and TV commercials. The next day was Saturday, so I went to the pharmacy to buy some."

I raised my eyebrows. "Where did you get the money for that?"

"I actually had ten bucks from brat-sitting my neighbors' rotten kids," she explained...

...with the expression on her face indicating that she was reliving some painfully-unpleasant memories.

"Come on, they couldn't have been_ that_ bad," I argued.

"Oh, no...little Lucifer and Jezebel were Perfect Angels!" she answered sarcastically.

I smiled. "Okay, I get the picture. So then what happened?"

She looked down in silence.

I waited in silence.

And finally, she continued, "I walked into the store with my heart pounding. It was the most embarrassing thing ever. After walking past the feminine hygiene aisle about twelve times, I finally got up the guts to go in."

Attempting to hide a smile, I asked, "Then what happened? No, wait, let me guess...you were confused by the endless options?"

She nodded. "Exactly. I didn't know which kind of tampons to get, but I also didn't want to run into anyone I knew so, to get the whole thing over with fast, I just grabbed a random box."

"What kind were they?" I asked.

"Super Plus," she replied.

"Ow!"

"Yeah, what a challenge for an amateur!" she agreed...

...and I smiled. "So, did you actually see anyone you knew?"

She shook her head. "No, something even worse happened."

I frowned. "What could_ possibly_ be worse than _that?" _

"Well," she continued, "the pharmacy was pretty crowded, and I didn't want anyone to see what I was buying, so I hid the box inside my jacket-"

"_OH NO!"_ I gasped.

"_OH, YEAH!"_ she assured me. "I hadn't walked ten feet when a security guard grabbed me, dragged me over to the register stand, and told the cashier to call the cops."

"Oh, my God, Sam...what did you do?"

"Well, there was only one thing I _could_ do," she replied. "I had to tell the lady why I had hid them; so I did...and then she started yelled at the guy for being so insensitive...and for being so hard on me, since I was 'obviously embarrassed because it was my first time buying tampons'."

"Well that was nice of her," I replied with a smile

Her jaw dropped in disbelief. "No it wasn't, Carls...she was yelling so loudly that half the people in the store were staring at me!"

"Oh my God!" I gasped.

"Yeah," she agreed. "How much does that suck?"

Pulling her into a tight hug, I began to rock her. "Don't worry, Sweetheart...everything's going to be okay. Tomorrow, while we're out shopping, I'm buying you tampons."

She put her hands on my shoulders, leaned back, and looked at me. "Thanks for the offer, Carls, but I can buy my own tam-"

"No, Sam," I interrupted, "I insist. I just wish I could have bought your first box for you...to spare you that horrible ordeal!"

Seconds later, her head was back on my shoulder, and I'm pretty sure I heard a sniff.

"Oh, Carls!" she exclaimed..

...and, as I hugged her, a new realization occurred to me, and gently moving her away from my chest...

...I peeked down the front of her T-shirt and remarked, "And it looks like someone needs to go to Build-a-Bra too."

She immediately covered her face with her hands.

I immediately removed them, and smiling at the way she was blushing, I asked, "And while we're on the subject, Sam, how and where did you get your first bra?"

Anticipating (and successfully thwarting) her sudden urge to hop up off my lap, I circled her shoulders with my arms, and holding her still (with difficulty), I looked into her eyes. "Please, Sam? I promise I'll never tell anyone."

Silence.

"Sam?"

She shook her head.

With a warm and reassuring smile, I continued, "Come on, Honey; you don't have to be embarrassed; please just tell me. Your mom didn't take you shopping for them, did she?"

After a long stretch of silence, she exhaled in a resigned sort of way, and after after a second long pause she volunteered, "I was twelve. One evening, while I was sprawled in front of the TV, my mom came out of her bedroom and tossed four very ugly bras in my general direction, while saying 'Here you can have these...they're too small for me'."

I nodded. "Okay. And then what did you say?"

"Nothing," she replied, "but her boyfriend, who was sitting next to me, had a really good laugh."

"Sam"! I gasped. "My poor baby! I"m so sorry that she embarrassed you that way!"

She looked down and shrugged.

I laid a hand on her cheek. "Tomorrow, while we're out shopping, as soon as we're finished at the pharmacy, I'm taking you to Build-A-Bra, and I'm buying you your first bra."

"It's not going to be my first," she pointed out.

"Oh yes it will," I replied, "It'll be the first bra that somebody who loves you has bought for you...am I right?"

Instead of answering, she leaned forward and buried her face against my shoulder.

"Sam?"

"Yeah," she finally admitted in a muffled voice; and as I laid my hand reassuringly on her shoulder and pulled her body toward my own, she snuggled close to me and I began to stroke her hair. After two or three minutes, I felt her beginning to relax.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I l-love you too, Cupcake."

"Are you okay?"

"Y-yes."

I gently moved her away from me a bit. "I'm so glad. Is it okay if we keep talking?"

She nodded slowly...

...and not exactly enthusiastically...

...but considering any affirmative gesture from her to be sufficient, I gave her my best maternal smile and said, "Sam, now that you've started your period...

Pausing for a moment, I looked down at her chest, and then back up at her face...

"...and you _definitely_ have boobies, it means you're becoming a young lady," I continued, "and so it's time-"

In less than a second, a look of horrified recognition crossed her face.

"Carls, no!" she immediately blurted out.

I reached down and took her hand. "Yes, Sam...it's time for us to have...a little talk."

"No-o-o-o-o-o-o!" she howled...trying to jump off me.

I didn't let her.

"Yes. It's time, and we're going to," I announced firmly, as my arms encircled her struggling body and held it (with difficulty) in a vice-like grip. "As I was saying, even though you may be embarrassed, we need to discuss th-"

Still thrashing valiantly in a frantic attempt to get away, she paused just long enough to insist, "I don't want to discuss _anything_ abou-"

Maintaining my grasp, I looked directly into her eyes and stated flatly, "Sam, there are certain things that every girl is entitled to...and one of them is a-"

"This isn't happening!" she yelled...

...clinging stubbornly to the illusion that denial was going to be an effective solution to our disagreement.

"It_ is_ happening," I assured her. "And we're going to."

"I'm not!"

"Guess again," I replied calmly.

"But...but..._b-but-_" she spluttered.

I smiled at her reassuringly. "Honey, Even though you may be embarrassed, we need to-"

"No!"

Now becoming slightly annoyed, I directed, "Sam look at me."

She stopped struggling momentarily and did, albeit reluctantly.

I took a deep breath. "Now, I want you to listen to me...carefully. I'm glad you made me talk to you about this earlier, even though I didn't want to at the time. I promise you that I feel less deprived...and less embarrassed...and a lot more confident now that you've uh...educated me about 'the birds and bees'."

She just stared back at me...

...in stunned, open-mouthed silence...

...and so, deciding that she needed further incentive, I offered, "Or we could have a Tickle Fight instead; and you know how much I love those, because I_ always_ win-"

And suddenly, she gasped, and it's obvious that a new light of (horrified) understanding had been kindled in her, because she suddenly yelled, "Okay, okay! Let's just get this over with!"

"Good girl," I commended with a smile. "Let's start by discussing your sexual his-"

"I'm a virgin! End of story!" she blurted out...

...and I immediately lost my composure. "Oh no it's not!" I answered hotly. "You didn't let _me _off that easily!"

Suddenly realizing that my response had been too harsh, I took a breath to steady myself'; and looking at her with my Most Serious Expression, I continued, in a much lower and calmer- yet equally Serious - tone of voice, "Now, Sam, I want you to tell me something...

...and you know what that something is."

She stared back at me in open-mouthed horror.

"No, Carls! Don't make me say it!"

"You know that you need to be completely open and honest with me," I reminded her.

"But...I...I..._I-"_

"Come on, 'fess up'...I mean...tell me, Darling," I urged gently.

She didn't, so I leaned forward and pressed my lips against her neck - repeatedly - while saying in a low voice, "Come on. You know how much I love you. You can tell me anything."

Eventually, I felt her exhale shakily. "Okay...I like to whack off...every night!" she finally(!) admitted.

My eyebrows shot up in surprise as I leaned back and looked at her. "_Every _night?"

"Yeah...it's a great stress outlet and it helps me sleep," she admitted, turning her head and shooting a sideways glance at me.

But then, looking apprehensive, she asked tentatively, "Are you going to tell me that nice girls never-"

"No, Sam," I answered quickly. "Nice girls _always_ do."

She looked equally confused and surprised. "Huh? How do you know?" she asked.

"Because it's much, much easier to be nice to others when you're not stressed out yourself," I explained with a smile...

...and, after looking downward and mulling that piece of wisdom over for a few moments, she nodded.

I most definitely had a point.

I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Pulling back, I asked, "Now, is there anything you want to tell me?"

She looked up at me from under furrowed brows and asked, "Like...what?"

"Like...is there anyone special in your life right now..._Honey?_" I answered...

...and smiling, she answered without hesitation, "Oh, yeah. I have the most wonderful girlfriend in the world! She loves me so much; and I'm going to love her_...forever_," she replied...

...while lowering her head again and looking up at me shyly.

At these words, I smiled back at her, while blinking rapidly.

Taking a deep breath, I dragged my bare forearm across my eyes and then continued, "Well, if this 'Carly character' loves you as much as you think she does..."

"I don't _think_ she loves me. I know it for a fact," she stated confidently...

...and I nodded soberly. "Well, if that's the case, then I'm sure you realize that she only wants what's best for you."

"Of course I know she does," she answered with conviction.

"Well then," I continued, "I'm sure you'll understand why she's about to ask you if you'd like to...release some stress?"

After a long, stunned silence, she lowered her eyes and mumbled, "N-no."

"Sam, please let me help you," I replied gently, while lifting her gaze to mine, but she just sat looking at back me...

...fearfully.

"Like you did for me," I reminded her.

"Oh, that. It was nothing," she replied with a wave of her hand, trying to trivialize what she'd done for me earlier.

Not acceptable.

"Yes it_ was_ something," I argued.

"Really, it was no big deal," she insisted.

"It was a big deal to _me_, Sam. I was scared and feeling horrible, but I trusted you; and I'm so glad I did."

She hesitated for a long moment, actually looking like she might possibly be considering my offer...

...and encouraged, I asked, "Would you like to?"

But at that moment, something in her face changed, and she shook her head.

"Can you tell me why?" I asked gently...

...but after nearly a minute-long hesitation, her only reply was, "I...just don't want to."

"Why not?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even and encouraging...

...but instead of answering, she merely shrugged.

Still determined to tread cautiously and non-agressively, I pointed out, "You said you like to do it every night...but I know you haven't yet tonight...have you?"

"No," she admitted.

I raised my eyebrows. "Well then, if you want to, we could go really slow...and if you want me to stop at any ti-"

"N-no...I just don't want to," she repeated...

...but I'm not one to give up easily, and then, just as I was about to continue our argument, it hit me...

...and suddenly, I comprehended the reason for her hesitation completely, and with a reassuring smile, I replied, "I know what you're thinking right now...and I understand. And I want to make it very clear that, no matter what happens right now,_ this_ doesn't count as our first time either, okay?"

And suddenly looking very relieved, she nodded slowly...

...and I leaned over and kissed her. "I just want to help you feel good," I whispered. "Will you let me, Sammie?"

She froze.

"Y-you've never called me that before."

I froze.

"You're right...and I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No," she cut me off. "It's okay. I...I like it," she replied, pulling me close.

"So do I...Sammie," I replied with a smile, tightening my arms around her.

"I love you," I whispered. "You know that, don't you?"

She nodded, and put up no resistance as I released myself from her arms...

...and slowly lowered her onto her back.

Smiling at her encouragingly, I reached down and began to open her belt...

...and within seconds, she began to hyperventilate.

"Shh. It's okay," I whispered...

...but she looked far from convinced, so to try to determine the cause of her uneasiness, I asked, "Are you reluctant to do this for...other reasons?"

She nodded silently...

...and I smiled. "Whatever they are, there's no hurry...we don't even have to...to finish tonight if you don't want to...okay?"

"Y-yes," she answered, in a badly trembling voice.

I let go of her belt for the time being and we sat together quietly for a few moments; and then I leaned over her. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"O-k-kay."

"Have you ever used a...a vibrator before?"

"No j-just my h-hand," she admitted.

I nodded understandingly. "I really enjoyed it. It's so much fun," I assured her quietly.

She frowned. "From way you were yelling earlier, it didn't sound like all that much fun."

Without missing a beat I replied, "Well, what did you expect? I had severe cramps...that felt like hot knives stabbing me in the gut...but thanks to you, they're completely gone now."

She didn't respond, so I said in a low voice, "Just lie back and try to relax for me. You don't have to do anything at all...okay?"

She answered me with a kiss, and as I kissed her back, I reached down with both hands and slowly pushed her T-shirt up, my lips leaving hers for just long enough to allow me to pull it over her head and off her body.

She didn't protest in the least, and she even let me pull her now-open belt off and drop it over the side of the bed...

...but the moment I reached down to unbutton her shorts, she grabbed my hands in alarm.

"Carls, n-no!"

"Shh. Come on sweetheart, you let me undress you before," I reminded her. "In the bathtub, remember?"

She didn't answer, and looking incredibly self-conscious, she covered her face with both hands.

Seconds later, I reached up and lowered them slowly. "Come on, Sammie. Let's not do it that way," I said, looking into her eyes and clearly seeing the unmistakable fear in them.

"This is going to feel so nice, I promise," I added with a smile.

Deciding that the best way to proceed was to take things more slowly, I turned my attention away from her shorts and instead, lay the full length of my nearly naked body against hers...

...and before long - and with a sigh - she wrapped her arms around my back and pulled me closer.

And, as we lay there in each others' arms, I could feel the way her hammering heartbeat was making her chest vibrate against my own.

After giving her a few minutes to steady her nerves, I tilted my head forward and downward, and seconds later, she jumped as she felt my lips on her chest...

...and my left hand slowly slipping down the outside of her right thigh.

She reached around behind me with both hands, attempting to caress my backside, but my hands gently moved hers away. "No, Honey, this is for you," I whispered; and getting up, I sat down beside her on the mattress...

...down near her hips.

Leaning forward, I watched her close her eyes, and seconds later, she began breathing heavily as I kissed her; and then, even more heavily as my lips left hers and, kneeling next to her, I began to run my hands up and down both sides of her body.

Her eyes flew open. "But I-I don't wan-"

"Shh. Remember how much fun we had in the bathtub? This is going to feel even nicer," I replied in a low, calming voice; as I slid my hand slowly between her knees, and then, after giving her time to prepare herself...

...I slowly pushed her legs apart...

_...far apart..._

...and, encouraged by her complete lack of resistance, I began sliding my hand up the inside of her left thigh..

...slowly...

...gradually...

...carefully...

...until I reached the top...

...and then, while watching her very, very closely...

...ready to pull my hand away if she seemed about to freak out...

...I pressed it gently against outside of her shorts...

...against her crotch...

...and we both froze...

...each of us waiting for the other to respond next.

Finally, with a sigh, she closed her thighs around my hand, not in a 'trapping' motion...

...but in a _'yes...I want to'_ one...

...and in that moment, an indescribable thrill of arousal and anticipation jolted through my body.

But this wasn't about me.

Not at all.

It was all about her...

...and so, nodding, I leaned down and whispered, "Do you trust me?"

After a long pause, I heard her answer, "Y-yes," and then I settled down next to her on my side...

...and waited patiently.

Finally, her thighs released my hand.

"Good girl. I'm going to help you now...the same way you helped me," I replied softly, reaching up and tangling one hand in her hair...

...as my other slowly but deliberately opened the button at the top of her shorts.

She let me.

I wrapped my free arm around her and held her close to me, giving her a few minutes to get ready...

...and finally, she whispered, "Yes."

She lay perfectly still, allowing me to open her zipper and to slip my hand inside, and as my palm made contact with the oxford cloth of her boxers...

...the only thing that was separating my hand from our mutual pleasure...

...hers physical...

...and mine emotional...

...she began to shake...

...violently.

Leaning forward, I kissed her forehead. "It's okay, Honey, don't be scared. This is going to feel so nice...I promise."

Her only response was to bite her lower lip hard...

...and to open her legs wider...

...and seconds later, I was pressing the palm of my hand against the outside of her underwear.

And then, I looked up at her and smiled, as I sat there perfectly motionless...

...waiting...

...wanting it to be her decision...and hers alone.

I could clearly see the gratitude in her expression as she realized this, and nearly five minutes later, she held out her arms, and I crawled forward and lay down next to her...

...and reaching over, she put her arms around me and closed her eyes, and tilted her head up toward mine.

Seconds later, both of my hands were moving upward to her cheeks, and I kissed her with utmost restraint, not wanting her to feel like she was being assaulted...

...and absolutely determined to take my time.

As much time as she needed.

Even as her mouth opened against mine, my tongue didn't stray forward at all, and when she opened her eyes and saw the way I pulled back and smiled at her, it seemed to reassure her somewhat...

...because, as my right hand slid downward and my fingers curled around the waistband of her opened cargo shorts, she nodded, and leaning downward, I slowly removed them...

...leaving her in only her boxers.

Sliding my hands under her back, I pulled her close to me; and then, rolling over, I pulled her down onto my chest, as I whispered, "We have all the time in the world...let's take it."

She didn't answer, but her hands slid between me and the mattress, and then she flattened her body against mine. And, as she lay with her cheek pressed closely against my own, I caressed her bare back with my right hand, and her hair with my left one...

...and gradually, yet unmistakeably, I felt her beginning to relax.

"Close your eyes," I whispered.

"They are," she assured me; and with a nod of acknowledgment, I slowly moved my hands lower until they came to rest on her backside...

...and then I waited, silent and motionless, while she struggled to master her breathing.

Once she had it somewhat under control, I began to caress her butt, on the outside of her boxers.

"Is this okay?" I asked tentatively...

...and with a nod, her arms tightened around me.

I took my time...

...caressing, kneading, stroking, squeezing gently...

...and from the way her body was moving on top of mine...

...trembling, shifting, squirming, stirring restlessly...

...it was obvious that she was beginning to become aroused.

Still, I wasn't about to rush things, and it was nearly a full five minutes later that my right hand slowly eased its way under the waistband of her boxers...

...and slipped far down inside them.

As my palm made its first gentle contact with her bare skin, she gasped audibly, but made no other noise...

...and no effort to stop me...

...not even when my right index finger began tracing lightly up and down her butt crack...

...although she did shiver at my feather-light touch.

"N-n-not ins-side, okay?" she asked shakily, as every muscle in her body seized up noticeably in fear.

"I won't, Honey. I promise," I assured her, as I stopped moving my hand, letting my palm rest on her bare butt cheek.

"Are you...having a good time?" I asked tentatively...

...feeling an overwhelming sense of relief when she nodded.

"I'm so glad," I answered...as I slowly resumed caressing her backside.

Her breathing soon changed, becoming more shallow and more rapid; and encouraged, I turned my left hand palm up on my left thigh and began to slide it sideways...

...when, to my surprise, she suddenly put her own palms on the mattress and, lifting her body slightly, she let me continue sliding it to the right...

...until it was resting under her body...

...and over her crotch.

And I knew that this meant she was giving me the green light; so tilting my head to one side, I kissed her neck slowly and languorously, and then whispered, "Open your legs for me."

After a moment's hesitation, she did; and extending my index finger, I lifted it upward, against the outside of her boxers, and seconds later...

...it was pushing them inside the outer lips of her vagina.

And then, much to my surprise, she began to tilt her pelvis forward and downward against it.

In response, I pressed my finger more firmly against her, and with nothing between it and her vulva except for a thin layer of rapidly-dampening material...

...I pressed my right palm more firmly against her backside...

...which increased the pressure of my left finger against her clitoris as she thrust forward against it...

...again and again...

...apparently now unaware of my presence as she focused in a deep, meditative trance...

...only on what was currently taking place between her legs.

Nearly five minutes later, she broke the silence.

"Oh, Carls..._please!"_ she begged...

...in a low, yet urgent voice.

Without hesitation I nodded, and sliding my hand under her right shoulder...

...I carefully turned her over onto her back.

Seconds later I was leaning over her once more, listening to the way she was breathing, and watching the way her body was shifting on the mattress in highly-aroused anticipation...

...as she felt her boxers slipping down her thighs.

Once I had them off, I picked the massager up and plugged it in...

...and then turned back, slightly dismayed to see her looking at it fearfully...

_...with her thighs now clamped shut tightly._

With a reassuring smile, I said in a low voice, "Open your legs for me, Honey. I won't turn it on...not at all...not until you want me to."

I waited patiently while she thought it over...

...for nearly a minute...

...but finally - and nervously - she spread her legs apart...

...and I slowly lowered the massager between them...

...way down between her knees.

She immediately looked up at me in confusion.

"Sam, it's still turned off, and it's staying that way...until you give me permission to turn it on, okay?" I asked.

Looking slightly relieved, she nodded.

"It's also staying right here until you give me permission to move it," I added...

...and seconds later, I saw her completely rigid body seem to relax somewhat...

...and I smiled. "Sam, I'm going to ask you a question now, and I want you to take your time thinking it over. Also, I promise to respect your answer...no matter what it is."

"Okay, C-carls," she replied, looking more than a little apprehensive.

I took a deep breath and then asked gently, "I was just wondering if it would be all right with you if I...move it upward...just one inch?"

After only a short deliberation, she nodded...

...and I did.

I smiled at her warmly. "See? That was okay, wasn't it?"

"Y-yeah," she agreed.

Suddenly inspired, I added, "Sam, hold out your right hand."

Although it was trembling, she extended it toward me, and reaching to my left, I took hold of the vibrator's long cord at about the half-way point, and pressed it into her palm.

Instinctively, she closed her hand around it.

"That's it," I said encouragingly. "Now you know that you can pull the plug out at any time and for any reason...okay?"

Reaching down with her free hand, she covered mine and gave it a squeeze.

Encouraged by this, I asked, "Sam, do you trust me?"

"Y-you know I do," she replied.

I nodded and gestured down at the vibrator. "Do you trust me enough to let me move it up again...if I promise to stop the second you tell me to?"

Long pause.

She nodded. "G-g-go ahead."

"I'm going to go really, really, really slow," I assured her, gripping the vibrator more tightly; and then, my badly-trembling hand began moving upward...

...at an indescribably-slow pace, as I forced myself to focus on waiting for the sound of her voice, so I could stop the instant she asked me to...

...and, as I stole a glance upward, I saw that her eyes shut tightly, and her lips were parted slightly...

...and, as I waited in a fully-heightened state of awareness, for her to shout for me to stop...

...suddenly, my hand met with resistance, and I looked down...

...in complete astonishment...

...when I saw that the head of the vibrator was now pressed directly against her vulva.

She hadn't tried to stop me.

The shock eventually passe, and I leaned forward and laying my cheek against hers, I said with my voice trembling, "You have no idea how much I love you."

Eyes still closed, she smiled; and then to my complete shock, she lifted the cord of the vibrator...

...and deliberately let it fall from her hand.

Seconds later, both of my arms were wrapped around her tightly...

...and I was kissing her face over and over, while blinking back tears...

...as she pulled my body down onto hers.

"Y-you know you can still tell me to stop anyt-time," I managed to get out...

...before her lips found mine.

Even though I didn't actually cry, it was still nearly five minutes before I was able to pull myself together; and then, sitting up, I reached down between her legs and picked the massager up once more.

With a long and shaky breath, I reached down with my other hand and gently spread her outer lips apart...

...and felt a shiver pass through me as I listened to her soft gasp when I pressed the massager's large, wedge-shaped head between them...

...directly and firmly against the upper-left side of her clitoris.

And then I waited...

...and after a surprisingly-short length of time, probably not more than a minute or two, she nodded...

...and reaching down to the massager with my free hand, I turned it on.

To 'high'.

Immediately, her body stiffened, and shifting my own body on the mattress, I knelt over her...

...placing one of my knees between both of hers, in case she freaked out and tried to close her legs again...

...but she didn't.

Instead, she surprised me by asking with her eyes still shut tightly (and in an incredibly-shaky voice),"Do you w-want me to...l-look at y-you?"

"Shh. This has nothing to do with what I want," I answered softly, "It's only about one thing...about what _you_ want."

She opened her mouth to reply, but apparently, her nervous system had other plans...

...more pressing ones, judging by the unusual, high-pitched squeaking sounds she began to make...

...as her hips began undulating against the mattress, at first almost imperceptibly, but then with more force.

And suddenly, her eyes snapped open...

...and she was staring at me, white faced.

"Carls! I...I _can't!_" she exclaimed, as her hands flew to my forearms.

Immediately, I scooched forward; and hovering over her, I replied, "Shh. Everything's fine. You're going to be fine. Just hold onto me."

Flinging her arms around my neck, she dragged my upper body closer to her own; and I turned my face to her ear. "If you want to, we can stop for a little while."

I didn't understand her answer...

...because it was punctuated by frequent, soft sobbing noises...

...so I continued, "It's going to be okay...you don't have to be nervous because I'm here with y-"

I don't think she heard the rest of the sentence...

...because, with a sudden gasp, she grabbed my shoulders, and her body stilled momentarily...

...and then, as she began to shake convulsively...

...she wrapped both her arms and her legs around me tightly...

...as she blasted out both of my eardrums with the loudest scream I've ever heard.

"Oh, God! Oh, Carls! Oh My Ga-a-A-A-_A-A_-_**A-A-**__**A-A-D**__**!**__" _

Instinctively, I ducked my head just in time to avoid her flying hands, as her arms left my neck and began flailing wildly in all directions.

Mercifully (for me), the whole thing was over in less than a minute, and, while ignoring the painful ringing that still plagued my ears, I turned the massager off, tossed it aside, and then leaned down, hugging her as hard as I could, and kissing her over and over...

...while pretending not to see the tears that were spilling out of the corners of her eyes.

"You were so wonderful...and so amazing," I assured her with a smile...

...tactfully turning my hand as she pulled the edge of the sheet up and wiped her face.

"Th-thank you...for making m-" she began.

"Shh," I whispered. "Not now, okay?"

She nodded and I rested my head on her chest, listening carefully; and once her breathing and her heartbeat had evened out, I looked down with tremendous satisfaction at her smiling face and closed eyes.

Getting out of bed, I left the room; soon returning with a towel and a damp washcloth. After stopping to get a dry pair of boxers from the 'Sam' drawer of my dresser, I approached the bed to see her looking back at me.

I sat down next to her; and at an encouraging smile from me...

...she opened her legs.

I'm sorry that I can't adequately explain the satisfaction I got from cleaning and dressing her; but the way she lay in silence and totally submitted to me while I did completely defies description.

Finally, I broke the silence. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

I leaned down. "I love taking care of you."

She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and leaning forward, she buried her face in my neck. "I...I could get used to it."

"Really?" I asked, pulling back to look at her.

She nodded without hesitation...

...and I smiled. "Well, that's good to know because tomorrow, right after we're finished at Build-A-Bra, I'm taking you shopping...at The Panty Emporium."

"Argh! _No Way!"_ she yelled immediately...

...but I wasn't going to back down.

Not this time.

"Come on, Sam; please let me buy silk panties...

"Argh!"

"...for you. Please? _Just one pair?"_

"Absolutely not!" she answered stubbornly.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "I'm not trying to get you to change your entire wardrobe! I love your Sam gear! And no one else will ever know you have them on-"

She squirmed in my arms. "Carls, no! I don't wan-"

"Please?" I begged. "Let me buy you _just one pair_. It would mean so much to me. Please?"

Total silence.

She looked like she was (reluctantly) thinking it over...

...and so I added, "All I'm asking is for you to wear them one time. Just once."

"Well-" she began doubtfully.

I gave her my most winning smile. "Because, once you've tried silk pan-"

In a flash, her fingers were across my mouth, and I was somehow lying on my back, and she was leaning over me...

...saying, "If I promise to wear them for O_ne Day_, will you promise to refrain from saying that revolting word...for_ One Day?_"

I moved her hand away. "Well, if I do...then will you let me see them on you?" I asked eagerly.

Long pause.

Sigh.

"Yes, Carls."

"Okay, Sam; I won't say it!" I assured her.

"Deal," she answered, sounding reluctantly resigned as she extended her hand.

I don't remember the handshake...I was way too busy thinking excitedly that I can't wait to see her in them...I just know she's going to look so hot! And how I can't wait to slide my hands down her silk-covered butt! And that seeing her undressed...except for her silk panties...will be way better than any Victorian Secrets catalog picture!

Forcing my mind to return to the present I added, "But Sam, after wearing them only once, I guarantee that you'll never go back to boxers."

She shot me a highly skeptical look. "Hmm we'll see about that."

Yes Sam...you'll see, I thought. You'll definitely see...

...and the day after tomorrow, we'll be having a 'boxers bonfire' on top of my hibachi...

...which means that I'll definitely be buying her more than one pair of white silk panties tomorrow...she just won't know it.

Turning my head away to hide my devious smile from Sam, I lay down and held out my arms...

...but instead of moving into them, she pulled me over into hers...

...and then, as I lay there...with my bare chest pressed against hers, and thinking that my life couldn't possibly be more complete than it was at that moment...

...she said, "I almost forgot to tell you. Garth has two or three more major jobs lined up, and he's asked me to help him. Anyway, I'll be working all summer; and then in the fall, I'm taking you to Atlantic City."

"Sam, no!" I gasped.

"Yes, Carls," she insisted. "Your mother wanted you to go. And I want you to honor her wishes."

"It's not like that, Sam; I _do_ want to go," I assured her. "It's just that...what I meant was that...I'm taking _you _to Atlantic City...and _I'm_ paying," I explained.

"But...I'm going to have money!" she protested.

I opened my mouth to argue, but then, in a sudden burst of inspiration, I suggested, "I have a better idea. Why don't we take each other to Atlantic City...and pay each others way?"

She thought it over for a moment. "Okay, Carls; I'd really like that," she replied, while barely suppressing a yawn...

...and, with a wide, contented smile, I snuggled down onto her chest and closed my eyes.

At eight-thirteen, I woke up tangled around Sam...

...and in shock, because I suddenly remembered...

...that last night I had left my beach scene quilt on the roof!

_OH MY GOD!_

Hurriedly unwrapping my body from Sam's, I was almost off the bed when, with her eyes still closed, she reached out and grabbed my arm.

"Hey, where are you going?" she asked sleepily.

"I...I...last night I left my quilt on roof!" I blurted out.

"So? Get it later," she murmured.

I wasn't mad at her for saying that, because she didn't understand...

...so instead I just answered, "I can't! It has extreme sentimental value! Don't worry...I'll be right back!"

With a nod and a sleepy smile, she released my arm, and I jumped off the bed and started running around the room frantically, in search of clothes.

Since everything I'd worn last night was currently in the bathroom hamper, I grabbed Sam's T-shirt and dragged it over my head; and then pulled on her cargo shorts. After hurriedly zipping them up, I rushed across the room, toward her sneakers...

...and almost fell on my face.

Note to self: Wearing silk panties under baggy shorts will make them slide right off your butt.

Bending over, I quickly pulled them back up, and then, while holding them with one hand, I grabbed her belt from the floor beside the bed and put it on.

Seconds later, I had jammed my feet into her sneakers and then, without bothering to tie them, I stood up straight and looked over at my bedroom windows, which were covered in condensation...

...which meant it was damp and/or cold outside so, grabbing Sam's jacket off the back of my desk chair, I yanked it on and hurried out my bedroom door...

...and to the roof...

...absolutely terrified that my quilt might have blown off...or been damaged...or been stolen.

As I waited for the elevator, which was taking an infuriatingly-long time to arrive, I realized that I needed to force myself to calm down before I blew out an aorta, so I deliberately turned my attention back to Sam...

(The elevator arrived)

...the love of my life...

(I stepped inside)

...the girl who loves me back...

(The doors closed)

...the girl who I never thought I'd have a chance with...

(The elevator began to move)

...but who's promised that she's going to love me back...forever...

(The elevator car stopped)

...the girl who's never loved anyone else before...

(The doors opened)

...but who just gave herself to me...

(I tore down the hall)

...and who took care of me when I was hurting...

(I ran through the door marked ROOF)

...and who trusts me enough to let me see her vulnerable side...

(I quickly maneuvered my way across the floor of the crowded storage area)

...the side she's never shown to anyone else...

(I retrieved the key from under the abandoned, rusty air conditioner)

...yet she trusted me enough to cry in my arms...

(I unlocked and opened the door with badly trembling hands and stepped through it)

...the girl who has made my life complete.

To my immense relief, the quilt was still lying near the wall where I'd left it...

...and it hadn't been rained on...

...and Sam loves me.

What more could I possibly ask? I wondered, as I walked over to where it was lay.

**But...How Had It All Happened?**

Seconds later, I had my answer.

Even though it was lying picture-side down, the quilt's right-hand corner was turned up...

...and as I looked down at my feet, I found myself staring at the words...

_...From Mommy With Love._

And at that moment, the sun's early rays cascaded over the roof-line of Barclay Hotel across the street; and, spilling over the top of our railing...

...they completely enveloped me, quilt-like...

...and suddenly, I felt incredibly warm...

...all the way to my center.

Leaving the quilt where it was for the moment, I walked over to the edge of the roof, and turned my face upward...

...toward the magnificent, blue and gold-streaked sky.

"I'm really sorry for saying that you left me. I know now that you never will...

I paused.

"...but Mom, Sam's absolutely terrified of heights...how did you _ever_ manage to get her up here?"

I waited for a minute in silence.

There was no response.

So, with a smile and a shrug, I took a step backward from the railing...

...when suddenly, a cold, damp blast of air whipped across my face; and at that moment, it felt like more like early-February than mid-April.

Quickly turning my back to the wind, I flipped the collar of Sam's jacket up, and plunged my hands deeply into the pockets...

...and as I did, I felt something sharp against the fingers of my right hand.

Closing my fist around it, I pulled it out...

...and, opening my hand...

...I found myself staring down at two halves of a broken fortune cookie...

...and a narrow piece of paper.

Trembling, I turned it over.

_The stars hold all answers for those brave enough to approach them._


End file.
